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TTNIVERSITY 


A  CoiKiiieriii^'  Corps  Bafee 

AND  orilKR   STORIES   OF    IIIE 

PHILIPPINES 


By 


GENERAL  CHARLES  KING 

Author  of 

'The  ColonvFa  DaiigbtiT."   ••Marion's  Faitb,"   ••Capt.iia  Illake. 

"i'nder  h^rc."  ••  Tbe  (ieni-rnrs  Double,"  '•  lletiyeon  the 

Lines."   "A  Wiirtime  Wooing,"   ••  ('Hn)pnigning 

nitb  Crook"  and  •' Xoraian  Holt." 


With  Illustrations  liy  Miss  Alicia  GooiKsiii, 
B.  Martin  Justice  ami  Stuart  Travis. 
Cover  designed  by  Miss  Elinor  Vorke  King. 


L.    A.    R  H  ()  A  I)  F  S     c^     C  O  M  P  A  N  Y 

MILWAUKEE.  WISCONSIN 

I  902 


Copyriu,lucd   1901 

by 

Charles  King 


Burilick  &  Allen 

Printers 

Milwaukee 


TO 

THE  MEN  OF  SANTA  ANA— 

THE 

Soldiers  of  Caufornia.  Idaho.  Washington',  and  of 

Light  B.\ttery  "D."  Sixth  U.  S.  .'Krtii.i.ery.— 

THE  oi.n  First  Brigade.  First  Division, 

Eighth  .\rmy  Cori's. 

IN 

admiration  of  their  valor  and  gratitude  for  their  loyalty, 

THESE 
stories     m-k-    mii'c^  \TFIi 


ivi(;(MGy8 


PREFACE 


TORIES   that   tell  of  the  early  days 

of  the  Army  of  the  Philippines  are 

as  yet  not  numerous.      The  badge 

of  the  Eighth   Corps,  worn   at   the 

outbreak  of  the  insurrection  by  an 

almost   pitifully  small   command   as  compared  with 

the   numbers  of  the  encircling  foe,  appeared  later 

on  the  breast  of  many  thousand  gallant  fellows — 

regular  and  volunteer— and  later  still  was  worn  by 

many  a   fair  woman— wife,  sister  or  sweetheart   of 

some  boy  in  blue,  fighting  across  the  broad  Pacific 

for  his  country's  flag;    and   it   is    to   these,   and   to 

those  whose  hearts  were  with  them,  these  stories 

are  hopefully  commended.     "A  Conquering  Corps 

Badge,"  the  first  and  far  the  longest,  except  for  a 

local  airing  makes    its    initial    appearance   herein. 

"The  Manila  Wire,"  a"true  bill,"  found  a  page  in 

Youth's  Companion  a  year  or  so  ago,  the  flattering 

sketch    of    the  writer  in  Ainslie's  Magazine,   and 

most  of  the  other  talcs  were  told  to  the  readers  of 

the  Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening  Post.     For  the 

courtesies  extended   them   by  these  most    popular 

periodicals,  the  hearty  thanks  of  the  publishers  of 

this    little    volume,   as  well   as   his  own.    are    thus 

inadequatelv  tendered  bv 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

A  Conquering  Corps  Badge,      -        -        -        -  i 

Jack  Royal, 6i 

Dove  Cote  Days.          -        -        -        -        -        -  109 

A  Rival  Ally,         -       -       -       -       -       -       "US 

The  Senator's  Plight, 171 

The  Luck  of  the  Horseshoe,    -        -        -        -  205 

A  Camera  Capture, 231 

The  Fate  of  Guadalupe,     -                -        -        ■  247 

The  Manila  Wire, 271 

Hetrayed  hy  a  Button, 285 

Biographical, 293 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

Bessie  Bellingham,       ------  i 

Midwinter  in  Manila, 26 

"Pit-a-Patty,"       - -  61 

"Maclean's,"        -------  105 

With  his  hand  on  his  heart  he  made  her  a  low 

bow,         -       -       -       -       -       -       -       -  log 

"Will  you  trust  yourself  to  me— alone  ?"          -  141 

He  broke  from  them  to  clasp  Ethel  in  his  arms,  145 

"Teniente  Americano,"     -----  168 

A  moment  of  odd  silence  and  constraint,          -  171 

"Permit  me  to  restore  missing  property,"        -  205 

She  quickly  unslunt:;  her  camera,  etc.,       -        -  231 

Six  white-gloved  hands  went  up  in  salute,        -  231 

Ruins  of  Guadalupe  Church,      -        -        -        -  247 

Paco  Church,        -       -       -       -       -       -       -  271 

Portrait  of  General  Charles  King,     -        -        -  293 

Concordia  Bridge, -  305 


w/ 


^ 


BESSli:   BELLI NGHAM. 


A  CONQUERING   CORPS 
BADGE. 


PART  I. 

It  had  been  raining  in  cataracts,  as  it  does 
at  times  in  the  Philippines.  The  rice  fields 
were  a  lake,  the  road  was  a  river.  The  only 
bit  of  highway  in  sight,  in  fact,  was  the  top 
of  the  stone  arch  of  the  bridge.  Walls,  roofs 
and  trees  stood  straight  out  of  the  flood,  and, 
when  the  rain  let  up  and  the  sun  came  out  for 
a  peep  at  his  satellite  before  going  to  bed, 
walls,  roofs  and  trees  seemed  absorbed  in  their 
own  reflections — as  they  appeared  in  the  w'ater 
beneath. 

Close  by  the  stone  i)ridge  stood  the  bamboo 
and  nipa  guard  house,  perched  on  high  like 
some  many-legged  aquatic  fowl.  Close  by  the 
guard  house  was  moored  a  raft,  and,  outspread 
upon  the  raft,  was  the  supper  of  the  guard. 


2  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

The  sentry  at  the  bridge,  squatted  on  the  stone 
coping  to  keep  his  feet  out  of  the  wet,  sliouted 
inquiry  as  to  liow  soon  the  rehef  could  wade 
out  and  let  him  come  in.  Number  Two, 
perched  in  a  tree  two  hundred  yards  distant 
along  a  line  of  bamboo  fence  whose  upper  edge 
alone  was  visible,  shouted  louder,  and  with 
genuine  Yankee  freedom,  a  similar  query. 
Number  Three,  somewhere  back  toward  town 
along  the  invisible  road,  was  lost  in  the  bam- 
boo— and  his  own  affairs,  which  at  the  moment 
happened  to  be  so  interesting  as  to  make  him 
indifferent  to  either  relief  or  supper. 

Along  the  main  street  of  the  barrio  of  Bally- 
bag  were  many  native  homes  of  bamboo  and 
nipa  and  a  few  structures  whose  lower  floor, 
at  least,  was  of  stone,  with  latticed  veranda 
surrounding  the  upper  story.  One  of  these, 
close  to  the  edge  of  the  village  was  distin- 
guished by  a  flag  staff,  from  the  tip  of  whicii, 
limp  and  bedraggled,  hung  the  stars  and 
stripes.  At  an  opening  in  the  lattice  of  the 
veranda  sat  a  pretty  girl ;  like  the  flag,  Ameri- 
can beyond  question. 

Now,  that  girl  was  the  major's  daughter. 
He  had  been  wounded  during  the  early  days  of 


A    COX(Jli:KlMi    CORE'S    BAlHli:.  3 

the  Tagal  insurrection,  whereupon  her  niotlier 
sailed  at  once  across  the  seas  expecting  to 
nurse  him  at  Manila,  and  found  him.  to  her 
amaze,  in  saddle  and  Malolos.  Once  abroad, 
mamma  couldn't  well  go  hack,  so  much  had  it 
cost  to  come  and  so  many  were  the  army  wo- 
men already  in  Luzon.  To  her  dismay,  and 
her  daughter's  delight,  she  found  herself 
housekeeping  without  a  house  maid,  cooking 
without  a  cook  and  marketing  without  a  mar- 
ket. By  the  time  the  rainy  season  was  on  in 
good  earnest  the  major  was  off  on  an  amphi- 
bious raid  after  the  elusive  Aguinaldo,  leaving 
two  officers,  the  regimental  band  and  sixty 
men  to  guard  the  lively  bailiwick,  containing 
three  American  and  o\er  three  hundred  Filip- 
ino families,  not  to  mention  a  floating  popula- 
tion of  some  three  thousand  that  had  drifted 
in  from  the  surrounding  lowlands  of  the  Pam- 
pamgas. 

Captain  Cross,  — th  Foot,  was  the  putative 
post  commander.  Lieutenant  Coates  was  post 
adjutant,  post  commissary,  cjuartermaster  and 
post  exchange,  signal  and  ordnance  officer. 
If  tliat  wasn't  complication  enough  for  one 
man  there  was  the  further  taiudc  that  he  was 


4  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

in  love  with  Bessie  BelHngham  here  in  Bally- 
bag  and  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  girl  in 
Baltimore.  The  funny  part  of  it  was  that  the 
girl  had  artlessly  written  and  told  Ress  all 
about  it  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  her  having 
gone  to  Manila. 

But  Mr.  Coates  never  dreamed  that  Bess 
knew.  He  thought  it  safe  at  first  to  flirt  with 
her  because  she  didn't  know,  and  she  thought 
it  quite  as  safe  to  flirt  with  him  because  she 
did.  And  this  was  the  situation  when  there 
came  from  Manila  four  convalescent  soldiers, 
privates  in  the  ranks,  one  of  whom  was  Mr. 
Philip  Fargo,  graduate  of  the  University  of 
California,  son  and  heir  of  a  man  of  wealth 
and  standing  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  at  the 
close  of  this  steaming,  sweltering  July  day, 
Mr.  Fargo  was  straddling  a  plank  in  the  lower 
branches  of  that  clump  of  bamboo  near  the 
edge  of  town,  garbed  in  khaki  trousers, 
trimmed  off  at  the  knee,  a  soaked  blue  flannel 
shirt  and  a  drab,  bangabout  felt  hat  that 
flapped  moistly  about  his  ears.  His  slim 
waist  was  girt  with  a  crammed  cartridge  belt. 
His  rifle  hung  close  at  hand.  One  bare  foot 
was  plunged  in  the  flood  and  his  sotil  in  melan- 


A    CONQUERIXG    CORPS    BADGE.  5 

choly.  His  shoes  were  at  the  barracks  and  his 
thoughts  at  the  BelHnghams' — centered  on 
Bess.  After  six  months  of  quixotic  service  in 
the  ranks.  Mr.  Fargo  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  his  father  was  an  oracle  and  he 
was  an  ass.  Exalted  patriotism  might  be  all 
right  in  the  abstract,  but  was  all  wrong  in  the 
ranks. 

He  had  been  a  well-to-do  dawdler  up  to  the 
time  the  war  broke  out,  neither  brilliant  nor 
bad.  but  a  genuinely  honest,  wholesome, 
modest  young  chap  for  whom  money  had  done 
much  but  make  him  happy.  He  was  weighted 
with  the  conviction  that  good  looks,  good  hab- 
its, good  temper,  good  manners  and  morals 
were  about  all  there  was  to  him,  and  what 
would  they  have  been  without — money? 

He  longed  for  a  chance  to  prove  that  per- 
sonally he  amounted  to  something,  and  so 
when  the  war  was  six  months  old  and  he  was 
twenty-six  he  went  and  enlisted  in  the  regulars 
and — away  to  Manila.  Old  Fargo  fumed,  the 
Club  laughed  and  certain  mammas  mourned — 
he  would  have  made  a  most  tractable  son-in- 
law  if  only  he  hadn't  gone  for  a  soldier.  Now 
Fargo  was  sick  of  it  all  inside  of  six  weeks  of 


O  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADC.E. 

his  enlistment,  but  too  proud  to  own  it.  He 
was  sicker  of  a  fever  inside  of  six  weeks  after 
the  sharp  fighting  up  the  line  of  the  Dagupan 
railway,  but  had  rejoiced  in  the  fighting,  had 
been  mentioned  in  ofticial  reports  and  was 
cocksure  of  liis  che\rons  when  taken  down 
with  typhoid.  That  gave  him  a  set  back  and 
could  have  given  him  his  discharge,  but  he 
wouldn't  have  it.  By  the  fourth  of  July  he 
was  afield — or  rather  afloat — again,  and,  his 
own  company  being  afar  off  in  the  mountains, 
they  set  the  four  convalescents  to  light  duty 
at  Ballybag. 

Fargo  was  at  first  much  bored,  but  that  was 
before  he  saw  Bessie  Bellingham.  Now,  hav- 
ing seen  her  almost  daily  for  nearly  a  month, 
he  was  in  worse  plight — he  was  enamored  of 
a  girl  to  whom  he  was  supposed,  socially,  to  be 
unworthy  to  speak — he,  who  had  more  to  his 
credit  at  the  Hong  Kong  and  Shanghai  bank 
in  town  at  that  minute  than  her  father  had  seen 
in  a  year; — he.  who  b}^  birth,  breeding,  educa- 
tion and  family  connection  was,  if  anything, 
the  honest  old  soldier's  superior,  had  yet  by  a 
freak,  become  his  subordinate  of  the  lowest 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  J 

grade, — also  hy  the  fortune  of  war,  his  daugh- 
ter's unknown,  unsuspected  adorer. 

Coates  was  the  first  to  find  it  out,  and,  know- 
ing nothing  of  Fargo's  antecedents  beyond  his 
descriptive  Hst,  was  properly  shocked.  "Fargo 
always  wants  Number  Three  post  and  is  will- 
ing to  go  on  guard  every  day,"  was  Sergeant 
Finnerty's  report  to  the  post  adjutant. 
"There's  such  a  fine  looking  young  soldier 
goes  by  here  so  often,"  said  Mamma  Belling- 
ham.  the  same  evening,  "even  now  when  he 
has  to  wade.  "  It  was  Bess  who  said  nothing. 
She  had  noticed  that  lately,  in  a  month  when 
marketing  was  more  difficult  than  even  in  May, 
their  Filipino  servitor  appeared  time  and  again 
with  fruits — bananas,  mangoes,  even  mangos- 
teens — that  couldn't  be  bought  within  ten  miles 
of  town,  and  fish  that  never  swam  so  far  from 
the  sea — also  tender  young  chickens  and  fat 
young  pigs  that  were  no  kin  to  the  late  la- 
mented of  Ballybag.  "Chinaman  hab  got," 
was  Sabino's  sole  explanation.  Mamma  had 
begun  to  brag  to  other  army  women  of  Sa- 
bino's superior  foraging  ability — an  unsafe 
thing  to  do  when  others  are  living  on  rice  and 
canned  salmon.     Chinamen  did  come  paddling 


8  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGK. 

in  their  cranky  dug-outs  to  the  village  walls, 
but  Chinamen,  who  had  anything  worth  buy- 
ing, wanted  ten  prices  iov  every  item,  ten  times 
more  than  army  purses  could  stand.  Thrice 
had  Miss  Bellingham's  bright  eyes,  aided  by 
her  opera  glass,  discovered  Sabino  in  chat  with 
a  Chinaman  out  on  the  Angeles  road,  and 
twice  had  mamma's  fine  looking  young  soldier, 
who  would  wade  past  there  when  it  wasn't 
pouring,  appeared  and  joined  the  two,  on  both 
which  dates  their  tea  table  was  garnished  with 
wnld  flowers,  as  indeed  it  had  been  on  others 
when  she  had  not  discovered  the  medium. 

"Tell  me  about  that  man,"  said  Bess,  to  Mr. 
Coates,  one  moist  July  evening,  as  the  second 
relief,  on  a  raft,  poled  its  way  past  the  house 
en  route  to  the  station  of  the  outpost  at  the 
bridge,  and  Miss  Bellingham  indicated  a  tall, 
slender  young  fellow,  with  a  singularly  refined, 
clear-cut  face  who  wielded  a  shoving  stick  with 
much  vim. 

"That's  a  recruit — Fargo — belongs  to  ''F" 
Company,  but  can't  get  there.  Captain  Cross 
says  he's  a  swell. — 'listed  on  a  bet  that  he 
couldn't  stand  it  six  months.  The  brigade 
surgeon  knew  him  and  had  a  long  talk  with 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  9 

him  when  he  went  through  last  week,  but  he 
won't  tell.     Where'd  you  get  your  flowers?" 

"Those?  Oh,  Sabino  finds  them  somewhere. 
What  a  pretty  corps  badge,  Mr.  Coates? 
When  did  it  come?"' 

.-\nd  Miss  Bellingham's  fine  eyes  fastened 
on  the  left  breast  of  the  faded  khaki.  Coates 
beamed.  The  interlocking  circles  of  the 
Eighth  Corps  in  white  and  red  and  blue  enamel 
certainly  did  credit  to  their  designer  as  well  as 
to  that  pull-together  command.  It  was  bliss  to 
note  her  deep  interest  in  the  little  emblem.  It 
was  thrilling  to  have  her  bend  toward  him — 
the  pretty  curly  head  so  close  to  his  lips,  the 
slender,  taper,  white  fingers  actually  toying 
with  the  badge  as  she  curiously  examined  it. 

"You  all  wear  these?"  she  asked,  guilefully 
content  that  she  had  diverted  his  attention 
from  the  flowers,  and  intent  on  extracting  in- 
formation interesting  to  herself. 

"Oh — Th.ere's  no  regulation  about  it,  I  sup- 
pose, but  these  finer  ones  are  worn  only  by 
the  oflicers — in  the  regulars,  that  is.  There's 
no  telling  what  the  volunteers  may  do,"  he 
added,  with  the  faint  disparagement  felt  by  a 
certain  few  of  these  jirofessionals  not  fortunate 


lO  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

enougli  to  have  been  tendered  volunteer  com- 
missions. 

"Then  /  could  wear  one!"  she  exclaimed, 
joyously,  thinking  none  the  less  that  she  had 
once  seen  one,  even  finer  than  Coates's,  on  the 
blue  flannel  breast  of  a  sentry  out  toward  the 
bridge,  before  the  inundation. 

"You !  You  could  wear  this — if  you  only 
would!"  cried  Coates,  all  Baltimore  forgotten 
in  the  presence  of  the  belle  of  Ballybag.  And 
his  eager  hands,  seeking  to  unclasp  and  trans- 
fer it,  encountered  hers — which  dropped  on  the 
instant. 

Miss  Bellingham  demurred.  Women  and 
statesmen  are  much  of  a  mind  on  one  point : 
Neither  an  offer  nor  a  nomination  should  be 
declined — in  advance.  She  saw  his  infatua- 
tion, as  politicians  read  an  impending  appoint- 
ment, but  it  would  be  unseemly  to  seem  to  see 
it.  She  knew  an  avowal  was  trembling  on  his 
tongue,  and  she  did  not  mind  its  trembling  in- 
definitely so  long  as  it — only  trembled.  She 
knew  that  the  Baltimore  girl  no  longer  held 
place  in  his  heart,  but  until  "officially  notified" 
she  would  be  violating  martial,  political  and 
feminine   precedent   by   permitting   herself   to 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    RADGE.  I  I 

know  t'nat  slie  was  being  tendered  the  vacancy. 
She  had  let  Coates  fall  in  love  with  her  when 
she  knew. — that  is  she  had  been  told  by  a  total 
stranger,  that  he  was  pledged  to  another,  but 
she  couldn't  help  that,  could  she?  She  drew 
the  line,  however,  at  overt  wearing  of  his  corps 
badge,  which  was  rather  over  scrupulous,  was 
it  not?  "Don't  take  it  off,  Mr.  Coates,"  said 
she.  "I'd  rather  not." 

"Has  any  one  been  telling  you — anything 
about  me?"  he  queried,  with  sudden  suspicion. 

"Lots,"  answered  Miss  Bellingham,  veraci- 
ously.  "Dr.  Skeels,  when  he  went  through 
after  General  Lawton,  said  you  were  just 
splendid  at  Malolos,  and  Colonel  Fitzhugh  and 
— and  Major  Briggs!" 

"That  ain't  what  I  mean,"  said  Coates,  mol- 
lified and  pleased  none  the  less.  What  war- 
rior isn't  when  his  deeds  of  valor  are  pro- 
claimed ?  "I  mean — has  any  woman  been  say- 
ing— things  that  ain't  true. — at  least  that  ain't 
now." 

"O,  no-o-o-o,  indeed,"  asseverated  Miss  Bel- 
lingham, pursing  up  her  lips.  "None  whom  I 
know,  at    least,"    suddenly    mindful    of  some- 


12  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

thing  Kitty  Cross  had  said  as  to  this  very 
affair. 

"Well,  you  don't  know  this  one."  interposed 
Coates,  measurably  relieved,  yet  gazing  rather 
ruefully  out  over  the  well  watered  flats  beyond 
the  village. 

"Which  one?"  queried  Miss  Bellingham, 
ingenuously. 

But  Coates  did  not  answer.  He  was  look- 
ing at  an  elongated  speck  skimming  the  sur- 
face of  the  flood  between  town  and  the  east- 
ward mountains.  "That  fellow's  in  a  hurry!" 
said  he,  as  he  took  up  the  field  glass,  lying  on 
the  rustic  table  beside  her. 

"A  banca!"  he  continued.  "Two  natives 
paddling  and  a  third  man  in  the  middle,  com- 
ing full  tilt  for  town,  too."  He  pulled  out  his 
watch.  "Mail  can't  be  in  for  an  hour  yet. 
Guess  I'll  have  to  look  into  this,"  and,  picking 
up  his  campaign  hat,  he  darted  through  the 
open  casement  into  the  salon  and  stumbled 
over  two  natives,  whispering.  Both  instantly 
looked  preternaturally  innocent  and  feigned  to 
be  busy  skating  in  woolen  arctics  over  the 
hard  wood  floor.  Coates  glared  at  them  sus- 
piciously, but  clattered  down  the  stairs,  and, 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  1 3 

leaping  into  a  shallow  punt,  bade  the  sleepy 
Tagal,  curled  in  the  bow,  to  shove  off. 

"Quite  like  Venice,  isn't  it?"  he  called  to 
Miss  Bellinghain  and  waved  his  hat  as  his 
craft  was  shoved  slowly  up  street  toward  the 
office,  while  scowling,  sullen  faces  from  the 
covert  of  the  striped  curtains  in  the  opposite 
gallery  peered  at  him,  warily.  There  was 
still  two  feet  of  water  on  the  level,  though  it 
was  rapidly  receding.  The  wire  to  the  rail- 
way had  been  down  thirty-six  hours,  and  Cap- 
tain Cross  was  blaspheming  the  hardest 
worked,  if  not  most  efficient,  department  on 
the  Island — the  Signal  Corps,  as  his  many- 
functioned  lieutenant  stumbled  out  of  the  shal- 
lop. "What  brings  you  in  such  a  hurry?" 
growled  the  captain.  "Have  you  heard  any- 
thing?" And  the  anxiety  in  the  deep-set  eyes 
showed  plainly  that  he  had. 

"No,"  answered  Coates,  "but  there's  a  banca 
coming  like  a  streak.  C'mup  stairs  and  see 
for  yourself." 

From  an  upper  window  the  two  gazed  out 
over  the  wooded  lakeland  to  the  east.  There 
was  the  "dugout"  almost  within  pistol  shot  of 
the  church   tower,   splitting  the  water  like  a 


14  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BAfXiE. 

knife.  A  picket  had  hailed  and  tlic  man  amid- 
ships was  frantically  waving  something  white 
— a  despatch,  probably,  for  the  treed  sentry 
let  him  by  without  halting.  In  five  minutes 
the  native  paddle  pliers  were  drooping,  ex- 
hausted, over  the  gunwale,  as  strong  hands 
hauled  the  long  sharpie  close  to  the  steps  and 
a  pallid  soldier  tumbled  out.  a  dripping  dis- 
patch in  his  hand.  Cross  and  Coates  had 
scurried  down  to  meet  him  and  could  not  wait 
to  read. 

"What's  happened?"  demanded  the  former. 

"Ambushed,  sir,"  was  the  hoarse  whisper  in 
reply,  "twenty  miles  out — the  major's  killed!" 

"Good  God ! — and  his  wife  and  Bessie 
here!" 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  I5 


PART   II. 

Two  weeks  later,  hy  which  time  tiie  am- 
buscade of  Major  BelHngham's  Httle  column 
was  an  old  story  in  Manila,  there  was  a  new 
emotion  at  Ballybag'.  The  typhoon  that  fol- 
lowed the  flood  had  swept  out  into  the  China 
Sea.  whirling  the  waters  before  it  to  the  end 
that  streams  indistinguishable  because  of  the 
general  inundation  now  became  insignificant 
sloughs.  Mud  dries  (|uickly  under  Luzon 
suns  when  rains  come  not  to  liquefy,  and  now 
when  the  winds  l)le\v  seaward  from  the  moun- 
tains the  dust  rose  responsi\e  from  the  one 
street  of  Ballybag  and  powdered  the  uniforms 
of  the  guard  with  detachable  khaki.  They 
were  few  in  number,  the  guard,  for  Cross  had 
taken  forty  men.  paddled  to  Bambinoag  up  the 
river,  waded  thence  to  Balic  na  Bato  and 
"hiked"  from  that  sanctuary  on  the  hilltop  to 
the  scene  of  the  recent  traged}'. 

It  seems  that  Bellingham,  broken  down  by 
the  severity  (»f  the  campaign  and  still  weak 
from  wounds  and  fever,  had  been  induced  bv 


l6  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

the  doctor  to  turn  over  his  command  to  a 
younger  man  and,  with  a  small  escort,  start  for 
Ballybag.  The  populace  had  been  profoundly 
peaceable  and  loyal  when,  three  hundred 
strong,  the  column  marched  through  on  its 
eastward  way.  But  the  sight  of  a  sick  major 
and  a  squad  of  half-sick  guards  restored  latent 
pluck  and  patriotism.  Six  score  Tagal  sol- 
diery surrounded  Bellingham's  litter  and  es- 
cort and  shot  most  of  them  to  death  before 
anybody  really  knew  where  the  volley  came 
from.  Then  came  the  old  time  Indian  busi- 
ness over  again.  Cross  went  out  to  "pursue 
and  punish;"  gave  the  poor  mutilated  remains 
Christian  burial;  sent  a  scrawl  to  Coates  bid- 
ding him  break  the  news  to  Mrs.  Bellingham, 
that  the  major's  remains  would  hardly  bear 
transportation,  and  to  look  sharp  to  his  own 
sentries  lest  the  Tagals  give  him  a  touch  of 
the  same  treatment.  "Better  send  the  women 
to  the  railway."  he  wrote,  "they're  not  safe  at 
Ballybag." 

Coates  tried  and  they  refused.  ]\Irs.  Bel- 
lingham, it  seems,  was  too  much  prostrated  to 
be  moved ;  Bess  wouldn't  leave  her  mother,  and 
the  other  women  vowed  they'd  stand  by  both. 


A    CONQUERIXf.    CORPS    BADGE.  IJ 

Mr.  Coates  could  get  reinforcements  from  the 
railway. 

Ordinarily,  perhaps,  he  could :  but.  as  the 
flood  went  out  so  did  the  soldiery,  in  every 
direction,  in  search  of  suspects.  This  left 
small  garrisons,  mere  handfuls,  at  the  stations 
along  the  line,  and  no  one  could  be  spared  for 
Ballybag.  This,  too,  at  a  time  when  Coates 
caught  more  native  servants  whispering  in  cor- 
ners, and  once  whetting  holos  in  a  back  yard. 

Cross  had  started  on  a  Sunday  evening.  His 
note  reached  Coates  on  Wednesday,  and  the 
latter  lost  no  time  in  sending  a  banca  with 
three  men  down  stream  to  the  railway — two 
days*  march  away  in  dry  weather.  They 
went  by  boat,  with  the  typhoon  at  their  backs, 
and  came  back  by  trail,  bearers  of  much  bad 
news  and  mud,  and  were  five  days  making  the 
round  trip.  Colonel  Storke.  commanding  at 
the  nearest  post  on  the  railway,  said  all  his  men 
were  ordered  out  to  reinforce  Lawton.  He 
hadn't  a  squad  to  spare  for  Ballybag,  and  the 
"Amigos" — so-called  because  of  their  peace- 
ful protestations  when  in  j^rcsence  of  any  force 
of  .\mericans — were  rising  in  every  direction. 
Attacks  were  of  nightly  occurrence  along  the 


1 8  A    CONQl'ERIXCi    CORPS    KADGE. 

line,  and  ]\lr.  Coates  would  l)ettcr  .^end  a 
courier  after  his  captain  and  bid  him  return. 
It  all  made  Coates  sorely  anxious  just  at  a 
time  when  it  wouldn't  do  to  show  anxictv. 

The  plaza  in  front  of  the  church  being  dry- 
now,  Coates  ordered  evening  inspection  under 
arms  by  way  of  making  imposing  show,  and 
got  exactly  eighteen  men  into  ranks,  so  that  lie 
failed  to  impose.  Even  convalescents  in  hos- 
pital for  the  time  being  were  propped  uj)  with 
a  gun,  and  Dr.  Blend  and  his  nurses  turned 
out  for  the  show.  Then  the  doctor  and  the 
temporary  post  commander  went  n\er  to  the 
quarters  still  occupied  by  the  bereaved  Belling- 
hams.  They  had  to  have  speech  with  the 
ladies. 

Bessie  met  them  readily  ent^ugh.  A  sorely 
stricken  girl  was  she.  for  dearly  had  she  loved 
her  stern,  soldierly,  devoted  old  father,  and 
now  was  she  well  nigh  worn  out  with  the  care 
of  her  weeping  mother.  Truth  and  candor 
compel  the  admission  that  tlie  widow's  wail 
was  not  so  much  because  of  what  had  become 
of  her  husband  as  what  was  to  become  of  lier. 
Bess  was  young,  pretty  and  "could  marry  any- 
body." said  she  to  Mrs.  Cross,  who  came  to 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    RADGE.  IQ 

coniftirt.  "But  the  only  penny  I'll  have  in  tlie 
world  is  three  thousand  insurance — and  a  pal- 
try pension."  She  had  always  liberally  spent 
three-quarters  of  her  husband's  small  pay.  so 
nothing,  of  course,  was  left  to  her  now.  Bes- 
sie's beautiful  eyes  were  filled  with  woe  and 
weariness  as  she  came  into  the  veranda  to  meet 
her  callers.  It  was  now  the  eleventii  day  after 
the  major's  death,  and  she  had  had  little  rest. 
Moreover,  at  a  time  when  little  delicacies  were 
much  needed  to  tempt  the  invalid  to  eat,  they 
were  no  longer  forthcoming.  Bess  had  been 
stinting  he;rself  to  provide  for  her  mother,  and 
was  not  too  strong  as  a  consequence. 

The  Filipino  butler  when  questioned  as  to 
possibilities  shook  his  head.  Vet  Chinamen 
were  to  be  seen  as  before  when  the  "fine-look- 
ing young  soldier"  was  present  for  duty.  Why 
brought  they  no  tempting  dainties  now  ? 

Even  in  her  grief  and  despond  there  were 
moments  when  the  girl,  seeking  air  and  a  mo- 
ment's cjuiet  on  the  veranda,  would  fall  to  vague 
speculation  as  to  what  had  become  of  that  fine 
looking  young  man.  She  knew,  of  course, 
that  he  had  gone  with  Captain  Cross  and  his 
detachment.     She  knew  without  asking  a  ques- 


20  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

tion  that  he  was  no  longer  in  or  about  Bally- 
bag.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  menace  of 
clanger :  That  was  something  both  doctor  and 
temporary  post  commander  had  never  men- 
tioned, but  now  the  time  had  come  when  it 
had  to  be  told. 

Sabino,  Spanish  schooled,  had  shown  the 
officers  to  seats  on  the  veranda,  then  tapped  at 
the  screen  door,  and  Miss  Bellingham  pres- 
ently appeared.  "Senor  Teniente,"  said  he, 
with  proper  obeisance,  and  then  busied  himself 
flicking  the  dust  from  a  mirror  on  the  east  wall. 

The  officers  met  her  at  the  open  doorway 
at  the  middle  of  the  broad,  two-storied  house, 
but,  seeing  that  Sabino  was  at  work  within 
earshot,  the  doctor  led  her  to  the  end  of  the 
veranda  before  broaching  the  subject.  Even 
then  he  lowered  his  voice  and  she  looked  up, 
startled.  ''We  cannot  be  sure  of  our  servants, 
Miss  Bellingham,"  said  he,  in  explanation. 

"But  Sabino  speaks  no  English,"  she  inter- 
posed, unwilling  to  be  so  far  beyond  her  moth- 
er's call. 

"Speaks,  no;  but  comprehends  much  that  he 
does  not  speak,"  was  the  answer.  "Can  you 
send  him  of  an  errand?" 


A    COXQUERIN'G    CORPS    BADGE.  21 

"I  can."'  said  Coates.  eager  to  be  useful,  as 
well  as  to  remind  both  that,  though  only  a 
subaltern,  he  was  none  the  less  now  command- 
ing officer.  "Mira,  homhrc!"  he  called  at  the 
doorway,  "Sabino,  aqui!"  he  called  again,  as 
the  swarthy  native  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"Hush!  Mr.  Coates.  Pray  don't  call." 
begged  Bessie.  "I  fear  you'll  wake  mother 
and  she  sleeps  so  little — at  night."  The  good 
lady  seemed  to  make  up  for  it  by  day,  how- 
ever, and  to  sleep  soundly  while  the  daughter 
waked,  for  no  sound  came  indicating  that  she 
was  in  the  least  disturbed. 

Coates  scribbled  a  line  in  his  notebook,  tore 
out  th€  leaf  and  gave  it  to  the  servant,  now 
standing  with  expressionless  face  before  them. 

"Al  cuartel,"  said  he,  despite  the  fact  that 
he  well  knew  barracks  to  be  well  nigh  deserted 
— so  did  Sabino.  He  took  the  paper,  how- 
ever, and  vanished.  Another  moment  and  the 
doctor  had  again  led  Bessie  to  the  corner 
farthest  from  her  mother's  window.  In  low. 
cautious  tone  he  told  her  that  by  the  morrow 
Mrs.  Bellingham  ought  to  be  able  to  stand  a 
day's  voyage  to  the  railway.  He  could  put  an 
awnine    over    the    craft.       Trusty    boatmen 


JJ  A    CUNyUEKlNl".    CORPS    BADGE. 

would  paddle  and  a  g^iiard  would  go  along  in 
other  bancas.  *'It  will  not  be  risking  very 
much  to  go."  said  he.  "and  it  is  risking  far 
too  much  to  stay." 

"Why?''  said  Bessie. 

Dr.  Blend  paused  and  studied  lier  carefully. 
''You  are  your  father's  daughter.  Miss  Belling- 
ham.''  said  he.  "and  about  the  only  woman  I 
dare  break  it  to.  I  fear  we  may  be  attacked 
here  any  night  now.  and  we  can  hope  for  no 
aid." 

Her  fingers  tightened  as  they  gripped  each 
other  in  her  lap ;  her  lips  set.  but.  soldier  girl 
that  she  was,  she  uttered  no  sound. 

"Hush!"  said  Coates.  stepping  quickly  to  a 
lattice  screen,  then  bending  down  and  peeping 
through.  Almost  instantly  up  he  sprang,  with 
wrath  in  his  eye.  and  darted  round  into  the 
house.  A  second  later  arose  the  sound  of 
scuffle  and  stifled  w'ords.  condemnatory  in  one 
and  expostulatory  in  another.  Then  Sabino 
came  shooting  out  into  the  sunlight  from  un- 
der the  veranda,  looking  aggrieved  and  hold- 
ing himself  by  the  seat  (^f  his  flapping  white 
trousers. 

"The     scoundrel     was     listening,"     panted 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BAUC.i:.  2^ 

Coates.  coming-  back.  "He  had  tiptoed  round 
to  the  side  veranda  and  was  crouching  there 
back  (jf  the  screen.  1  caught  him  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  gave  him  a  shake,  and  then  sent 
him  to  the  foot  with  one  kick." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  "Better  keep 
your  hand  and  temper.  Coates!  But  we'll  have 
a  guard  here  to-night.  Miss  Bellingham,  and 
to-morrow  your  mother  must  make  an  effort. 
I'll  send  Lolita  over  to  help  you  pack." 

Bessie  went  with  them  to  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  tilled  with  apprehension  and  vague 
trouble.  "You  must  have  shaken  him 
soundly."  said  Blend,  stooping  and  picking  up 
a  dingy  paper  packet  that  was  covered  with 
Tagal  hieroglyphics.  There  was  something 
within.  His  fingers  and  thumb  tried  it  and  a 
(|ueer  lot)k  came  over  his  face.  Ripping  open 
the  enveloi)e  he  drew  forth  a  smaller  packet, 
wrapped  all  in  tissue  paper.  Coates,  halted 
•  m  the  fourth  step,  turned  and  looked  back. 
Even  professional  calm  seemed  to  give  place 
to  a  tinge  (^f  subdued  excitement  as  Blend  tore 
away  the  flimsy  paper  and  brought  forth  a  flat 
pocket-book  ^ji  some  fine,  soft  skin.  Two  let- 
ters in  monogram  and  gold  were  stamped  on 


-'4  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

tlie  flap,  F  and  P,  and  when  opened  it  was 
found  to  contain  some  seventy-five  dollars  in 
American  currency,  worth  over  one  hundred 
and  fifty  in  silver  pesos.  There  was  some- 
thing more,  half  a  dozen  visiting  cards — like 
this: 

Mr.  Philip  Fargo, 

University  Club, 
San  Francisco. 

"Nab  that  man,  quick,  Coates !"  said  the 
doctor,  unconsciously  and  illegally  assuming 
the  functions  of  commanding  officer.  Under 
other  circumstances  Coates  would  have  de- 
murred and  given  the  medical  officer  to  under- 
stand that  his  rank  of  captain  carried  with  it 
no  right  to  issue  even  emergenc}^  orders  to  a 
lieutenant  of  the  line.  To  his  credit  and  that 
of  the  service  in  general,  be  it  said.  Coates 
never  thought  of  it  an  instant.  He  was  oft' 
like  a  shot.  Rank  and  precedence  are  weighty 
questions  in  Washington,  but  less  so  in  war. 

Then  our  medical  man  turned  again  to  the 
girl,  now  clinging,  pallid  and  trembling,  to  the 
baluster  rail.  "Do  not  let  your  mother  sus- 
pect anything.  Miss  Bessie.  I  must  rely  on 
you.     I'll    return    in    a    moment.'"     Then    he. 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  25 

too.  went  leaping  lightly  down  the  black  wood 
stairs. 

Under  the  table,  half  way  across  the  salon, 
mute  evidence  of  the  centrifugal  powers  im- 
parted to  Sabino  by  the  vigorous  hand  of  Mr. 
Coates.  another  little  packet  peeped  forth,  a 
gleam  of  gold  at  the  torn  edge  of  the  paper. 
This  she  pounced  upon  and  bore  to  the  light. 
Sabino  had  indeed  been  shaken  to  some  pur- 
pose. Her  slender,  taper  fingers  drew  forth  a 
dainty  toy  in  blue  and  red  and  white  enamel, 
set  in  solid  gold,  the  workmanship  of  a  famous 
house  in  San  Francisc<» — a  far  more  costly  and 
beautiful  toy  than  that  then  pendant  on  the 
broad  chest  of  the  young  post  commander.  It 
was  the  badge  of  the  Eighth  Corps  as  worn 
by  Lawton's  old  division.  This  in  itself  was 
remarkable,  but  what  made  it  more  so  was  the 
fact  that,  carefully  folded  in  a  bit  of  oiled  silk, 
in  the  same  packet,  was  a  half  yard  of  blue 
ribbon.  She  knew  it  instantly.  She  had  lost 
it  from  her  gown  one  gusty  evening  when 
they  had  walked  out  to  the  bridge — Mrs. 
Cross.  Kitty  and  herself,  and  mamma's  "fine 
looking  young  soldier'"  was  on  post  under  the 
bamhrios  at  Xo.  3. 


26  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 


PART  111. 

There  is  something  ahnost  uncanny  in  the 
silence  of  a  FiHpino  town  at  night.  Even  be- 
fore tlie  curfew  orders  that  kept  the  villagers 
within  bounds  after  sounding  "call  to  (juarters" 
on  the  American  bugle,  all  manner  of  mirth  or 
revelry  seemed  to  die  away  with  the  setting 
sun.  Twilight,  mystic  hour  under  Northern 
skies,  they  know  not  in  the  tropics.  There  is 
no  gradual  blending  of  gladsome  day  with 
gloomy  night.  Xow,  this  summer  evening, 
faint,  fire-fly  glimmer  peeped  from  native  huts 
where  the  inmates  squatted,  muttering  and 
puffing  their  eternal  tobacco.  Dim  and  ghost- 
like, white  robed  forms  flitted  from  door  to 
door,  or  darted  through  black  alleyways  be- 
tween hedges  of  stiff  bamboo.  This  was  the 
case,  at  least,  in  rural  Ballybag  where  now, 
mid  September,  there  was  no  longer  force  left 
to  enforce  the  order  against  natives  visiting- 
after  nine  p.m.  A  little  earlier,  fora  month  after 
the  stubborn  defence  of  the  barrio,  the  brawny 
soldiery     from    Yankeeland    strolled   jovially 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  J/ 

about  the  ])lace.  lavish  and  good  natured,  un- 
conscious of  secret  hate,  if  indeed  such  hate 
existed,  so  smiHng  and  friendly  seemed  the  oc- 
cujiants.  But  the  finding  of  a  brace  of  sentries 
with  their  throats  slashed  from  ear  to  ear  had 
led  to  sharp  reprisals.  Pedro  Aquena  had 
been  shot  dead  at  the  post  of  No.  4  at  the  land- 
ing. Augustino  Cortina,  lowering  himself 
from  the  second  story  window  of  a  residence 
in  the  fashionable  quarter,  unluckily  lit  on  the 
bayonet  of  a  tall  youth  from  the  Youghiogheny 
\^alley.  and  night  prowling  ceased  for  as  much 
as  a  moon.  Xow  it  had  begun  again,  but  no 
man  could  know  it  by  means  of  his  ears.  A 
cat  is  nn  more  stealthy  than  a  Tagal.  even  in 
the  snapping  bamboo. 

And  this  was  why  Coates  had  put  two  of  his 
best  men  on  guard  at  the  Bellingham's  the 
night  of  Sabino's  escapade,  one  at  the  steps  in 
front.  t)ne  in  the  yard  in  rear,  both  stimulated 
with  strong  coffee  and  a  sense  of  dangerous 
duty,  and  ordered  to  be  all  night  on  the  alert. 
At  midnight  Coates  himself,  a  revolver  gleam- 
ing at  each  hip.  halted  under  the  shining  stars 
in  front  of  the  house,  where  lay  still  querul- 
ously moaning,  the  distracted  widow. — where 


28  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

watched,  and  read  to,  and  strove  to  soothe  her. 
the  devoted  child. 

Other  army  women,  kind  and  charitable  as 
they  ever  are  in  time  of  trouble,  had  been  there 
during  the  afternoon.  Lolita.  dusky  hand- 
maid and  laundress  at  the  hospital,  had  worked 
busily  under  Bessie's  supervision,  for  Coates 
had  put  his  foot  down  with  firmness  hitherto 
unlooked  for  in  that  easily  string-led  subaltern. 
All  the  women  were  to  be  sent  to  the  railway 
with  the  morrow's  sun.  Mrs.  Cross,  her 
daughter  and  Mrs.  Warner,  living  close  under 
the  wing  of  the  main  guard,  were  safer  than 
were  these  at  the  outer  edge  of  town,  but  no 
man  could  say  what  the  night  would  bring 
forth. 

Sabino  had  vanished.  No  further  word 
had  come  from  Cross.  No  help  could  be 
hoped  for  from  the  line  of  the  railway,  and 
now  a  new  apprehension  had  taken  possession 
of  Mr.  Coates.  How  happened  it  that  Sabino 
had  had  Private  Fargo' s  pocketbook  and 
money?  He  would  have  been  still  more  ap- 
prehensive had  he  heard  about  that  costly  corps 
badge.  It  was  his  belief  that  Sabino  had 
either  found  or  stolen  the  book,  but  that  was 


A    CUNL'UERIXG    CORPS    BADGE.  2C) 

a  belief  Miss  Bellingham  did  not  share.  Xor 
was  she  in  position  to  say  what  her  theory 
might  be.  As  matters  stood,  silence  seemed 
her  wiser  cc>iirse. 

Army  girls,  frontier  bred  as  are  mosi  of 
them,  have  seen  too  much  of  the  American 
savage  to  scare  easily  at  the  puny  Malay. 
Bessie  Bellingham  had  been  one  of  the  best 
shots  with  a  little  Smith  &  Wesson  in  old  days 
at  Fort  Custer.  She  had  a  heavier  pistol  now 
and  well  knew  how  to  use  it.  This  night  she 
had  twirled  its  gleaming  cylinder  and  tried  its 
lock  to  see  that  all  was  in  trim  working  order. 
It  was  lying  on  a  little  table  just  where  her 
mother  could  not  see  it,  but  easily  within  her 
reach  as  she  sat  and  rocked  and  read  aloud.  It 
was  there  when  she  went  at  ten  o'clock  to  the 
east  gallery  and  glanced  out  at  the  loveliness 
of  the  summer  night  and  saw  the  moonbeams 
glinting  on  the  bayonet  of  the  silent  sentry, 
peering  about  him  in  the  lower  yard.  It  was 
there  when,  much  later,  she  tripped  out  into 
the  quaint  Spanish  kitchen  to  heat  a  little  broth 
over  a  spirit  lamp.  The  kitchen  stood  in  a 
semi-detached,  towerlike,  two-story  structure 
at  the  end  of  the  east  gallery,  and  underneath 


30  A    CONQUERINfi    CORrS    BADGE. 

it  on  the  js^nnind  floor  slept  Sabino's  half- 
brother,  S.il)ino's  half-brother's  diminutive 
wife  and  two  pickaninny  Tagals  that  were  the 
pride  of  the  parents'  hearts  and.  until  sorrow 
weighed,  a  source  of  unutterable  merriment 
and  delight  to  Bess.  Sorely  troubled  were 
those  guileless  natives  over  Sabino's  disappear- 
ance. They  said  little.  They  looked  \olumes. 
They  were  pobre-muy  pobrc.  They  knew  not 
of  Sabino's  wealth.  They  marveled  when 
shown  the  pocketbook  and  its  store.  They 
were  questioned  as  to  their  knowledge,  but 
denied  everything.  They  wept  at  the  sorrow- 
ful fate  of  the  head  of  their  house.  They  had 
but  one  theory.  Sabino  must  have  been  kid- 
napped by  bad  men  from  the  hills — Igorrotes, 
or  perchance  evil  doers — Macabebes  from  the 
lower  river.  Did  not  good  Padre  Alfonso 
vouch  for  his  piety — and  theirs? 

Their  little  den  was  dark  and  silent  as  Bessie 
glanced  down  the  gallery  before  returning  to 
her  mother.  The  glistening  revolver  was  still 
there  when,  half  an  hour  later,  she  heard  low 
voices  out  in  front  and  went  to  listen,  and 
stayed  a  moment  or  two.  for,  after  sipping  of 
the  grateful   bowl.   T^lrs.    Bellingham   had  ap- 


A    CONQUERIXC.    CORPS    B ADCR.  T,\ 

parently  composed  lierself  for  a  snatch  <jf 
slumber.  Coates  and  his  sentry  were  in  mut- 
tered— ahnost  eager,  talk.  The  man  was  say- 
ing something  she  was  not  meant  to  hear,  and 
therefore  longed  tt).  She  strained  her  ears 
and  threw  back  her  beautiful  wavy,  golden 
hair,  hoping  to  catch  his  rapid  words,  for  he 
was  telling  (^f  strange  and  suspicious  sounds 
as  of  distant  voices  and  plashing  oars.  Per- 
haps over  eagerness  to  catch  his  words  made 
her  deaf  to  other  matters  nearer  at  hand,  for  a 
bamboo  screen  moved  stealthily,  a  curtain 
fluttered  when  there  was  no  breeze  to  stir,  and 
when  Coates  «;trode  suddenly  away  beyond  the 
gate  and  toward  the  tree  where  the  "fine  look- 
ing voung  soldier"  used  to  nM)st  so  fre(|uently 
during  the  inundation,  and  Bess  finally  tip- 
toed softly  back  t<^  her  mother's  bedside,  the 
light  still  burned  dimlv  on  the  little  table  where 
lav  her  watch  and  revolver  ten  minutes  liefore. 
The  watch  was  ticking  there  busily  still,  for  she 
took  it  uj)  and  noted  the  hour — 12:20 — and 
long  had  she  reason  to  rememl)er  it — 

P.ut  the  revolver  was  gone! 

Even  before  she  cmild  realize  her  loss,  there 
came  from  the  vard  at  the  rear,  stern,  sharp. 


T,2  A    CONQUERING    CORl'S    BADGE. 

almost  savage,  the  challenge  of  the  sentry — 
"Halt!  Who  is  thcrcF"  Springing  to  the 
back  gallery,  she  saw  crouching  in  the  dim 
light  close  to  the  rear  gate  in  the  bamboo  fence, 
a  form  in  ghostly  white — saw  the  sentry  with 
leveled  bayonet  advancing  sturdily  upon  it — 
saw  crouching,  pantherlike,  two  forms,  dark 
and  dusky  in  the  shadows  of  the  little  tower  of 
the  servants'  quarters,  saw  them  spring  forth, 
a  gleam  of  steel  in  the  hand  of  each,  then,  with 
her  instant  shriek  of  warning,  came  the  spring 
of  the  Tagal  tiger,  a  stifled,  gasping  cry,  a 
crash  as  of  tumbling  metal,  a  heavy,  sodden 
fall,  a  gurgling  moan,  and  away  sped  the 
shadows,  vanished  in  a  second.  Her  mother's 
scream  of  terror  rang  from  within.  The 
sentry  in  front  tore  through  the  stone-fiagged 
passage  to  the  rear  of  the  house  and  stumbled 
over  a  prostrate  form  in  khaki  and  cried  out 
for  the  guard.  Coates  came  rushing  back  to 
the  quarters.  Sabino's  infant  nephews  set  up 
a  shrill  wail.  Almost  instantly  there  burst  up- 
on the  night,  from  the  bamboo  thickets  to  the 
rear  of  the  post  of  the  guard,  a  quick  crackle 
and  sputter  of  musketry,  followed  by  stento- 
rian shout  from  an  Irish  sergeant  calhng  on 


A    COXgUERlNC.    CORPS    BADGE.  33 

liis  ready  men.  ami  then,  almost  before  she 
could  realize  that  an  attack  was  opened  upon 
their  few  defenders,  the  shutters  of  two  houses 
across  the  street  were  flung  open :  flash  and 
flame  leaped  from  the  casement ;  answering 
shots  barked  and  banged  uj)  and  down  the 
dusty  street.  The  insiirrcclos  seemed  swarm- 
ing in  the  town  and  all  about  them.  yet.  despite 
the  fusilade,  over  it,  loud,  shrill  and  warning, 
a  cry  r:'.ng  again  and  again  on  the  night — a 
cry  in  an  unknown  tongue,  at  sound  of  which 
there  came  rush  and  scurry  from  the  hedge- 
rows close  at  hand.  Dim,  white-robed  forms 
fled  streaking  like  flying  spectres  through  the 
by-ways  and  darted  into  nipa  huts,  for,  from 
the  side  of  the  river,  there  rang  the  loud  cheer 
of  a  swift  running  line,  and  old  Cross's  voice 
raging  over  all — "Hold  your  fire,  you  fools! 
You'll  kill  your  own  people !" 

Heaven-directed,     the    scouting    party    had 
come  back  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 


34  '^  coNgLEKiNc;  corps  hadge. 


PART  1\'. 

Six  months  later  and  the  situation  at  Bally- 
bag  had  somewhat  changed.  Amigos  and  in- 
surrectos  both  were  there.  So  were  the  band, 
headquarters  and  a  battahon  of  the  regulars, 
but  the  Bellinghams  were  gone,  leaving  Coates 
lamenting.  Despite  his  defection  he  had  de- 
served better  of  fate  than  to  fall  out  of  (,)ne  en- 
tanglement into  another,  wherein  he  was  not 
wanted,  for  Miss  Bellingham  found  him  sorely 
in  need  of  consolation  at  a  time  when  she  had 
none  to  spare.  It  was  that  young  devil  "Dan 
Cupid"  and  that  prolific  source  of  similar  woes, 
proximity,  that  were  really  to  blame.  Coates 
had  fallen  heels  over  head  in  love  with  bonny 
Bess,  and  most  loyally  had  he  thought  for  her, 
fought  for  her  and  profusely,  as  it  turned  out, 
had  be  bled  for  her.  He  fell,  indeed,  shot 
down  from  the  o])posite  windows  after  \ali- 
antly  collaring  two  skulking  invaders  close  un- 
der her  own.  One,  the  brother  of  the  van- 
ished Sabino,  had  not  even  time  to  hurl  away 


A    COXQL'ERING    CORPS    nAIX.K.  35 

the  incriininating-  pistol  he  had  hlched  from  the 
sick  chamber.  The  other,  with  a  hand  wet  and 
j^ory.  still  wielded  the  blood- warm  bolo  with 
which,  not  a  minute  before,  he  had  slit  the 
sentry's  throat.  The  timely  coming  of  Cross 
and  his  men  had  nipped  the  well-planned  out- 
break in  the  bud,  and  l)rought  woe  to  the  hopes 
of  Tagaldom.  Smiling  and  submissive,  they 
had  come  forth  by  dozens  at  the  break  of  day 
■'to  welcome  home  to  his  faithful  friends"  the 
brave  captain  and  his  heroic  men.  But  Cross 
ordered  instant  search  of  the  Padre's  house, 
and  found  it  an  arsenal  of  ammunition.  The 
Alcalde,  too.  turned  out  to  be  a  pious  fraud. 
But  the  man  that  Coates  most  longed  to  see  in 
limbo  was  Sabino.  who  came  not  at  all.  An- 
other missing  man  who  came  not.  even  to  prove 
property  and  claim  it,  was  Private  Fargo. 

Six  months  had  passed.  Coates  had  been 
ofifered  a  lea\c  of  al)scnce  by  an  appreciative 
corps  commander,  a  chance  to  take  a  l«^ng  sea 
vcjyage  for  recuj)eratit)n.  an  opportunity  to  see 
India.  Aden.  Suez.  Malta,  "Gib,"  aye.  even 
Baltimore,  and  he  didn't  care  to  go.  but  asked 
to  be  allowed  to  recuperate  in  Manila  instead. 
The    I'cllinghams    were    still    there.      The    pa- 


36  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

ternal  general  had  found  means  to  provide 
Bess  with  a  paying  clerkship  with  which  to 
support  her  mother.  The  paternal  general 
government  had  found  means  to  withhold  that 
bereaved  lady's  pension — the  fact  that  she  had 
been  known  all  over  the  wide  frontier,  for  over 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  as  Bellingham's  own 
and  only  wife  was  of  no  avail  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Washington  officials  in  the  absence  of  a  mar- 
riage certificate  that  happened  to  have  been 
burned  with  the  rest  of  their  belongings  one 
bitter  winter's  night  in  far  Wyoming.  There 
were  a  dozen  officers  within  a  mile  of  the  pen- 
sion building  who  could  have  sworn  to  the 
widow's  rights  in  the  matter,  but  it  took  longer 
by  several  months  to  send  all  the  papers  in  the 
case  back  to  Manila,  where,  but  for  the  charity 
of  friends  and  the  energy  of  her  daughter,  the 
unhappy  woman  would  have  been  in  sorest 
need. 

Coates  stood  by  them  manfully,  limping 
about  the  Ermita  suburb  in  search  of  chickens 
that  were  not,  like  the  human  biped  native,  all 
legs  and  leanness.  Mamma  was  ever  ready  to 
receive  him  and  pour  her  woes  into  his  ear. 
Bess  was  too  busy.     Besides,  she  thought  him 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  2>7 

well  enough  now  to  be  stumping  about  Bally- 
bag  and  finding  out  what  had  become  of  Sa- 
bino.  of  course,  and  incidentally,  perhaps,  of 
the  "fine  looking  young  soldier"  of  whom 
nothing  definite  had  been  heard  since  just  be- 
fore the  night  battle. 

"Private  Fargo."  said  Cross's  ofticial  re- 
port, "was  with  the  command  until,  after  a 
forced  march  of  twenty-two  miles,  we  reached 
the  river  just  after  dark.  Then  it  was  found 
that  the  insurgents  had  run  away  the  ferry 
cables  and  boats  and  a  delay  of  two  hours  oc- 
curred before  we  could  find  barges  and  make 
rafts  sufficient  to  cross  the  command.  By  that 
time  Fargo  had  disappeared.  He  had  appar- 
ently wandered  off  into  the  darkness  and  was 
probably  seized  by  lurking  insurgents  and,  I 
fear,  dispatched  without  mercy." 

But  a  story  had  drifted  in  that  Corporal 
Forbes  had  seen  Fargo  parleying  with  a  China- 
man, and  two  men  heard  a  canoe  paddling  off 
across  the  stream,  but  their  hails  were  unan- 
swered. San  Francisco  had  sent  men  of  mark 
to  inquire,  and  all  the  Eighth  Corps  within 
reaching  distance  of  the  railway  by  this  time 
knew  that  the  missing  private  was  a  million- 


38  A  coxyuERixc;  corps  badge. 

aire  or  the  next  thing  to  it.  There  had  never 
been  doubt  that  lie  was  a  gentleman.  Many  a 
man  can  be  either  without  being  both. 

Then  came  March,  the  first  of  it  at  least,  and 
tidings  from  the  North.  Somewhere  about 
Vigan  a  troop  of  cavalry  struck  the  fresh  trail 
of  a  F"ilipino  band;  followed  and  "jumped  it" 
in  the  early  dawn  and  the  outskirts  of  a  pretty 
inland  town.  Ordinarily  the  insurgents  got 
away.  This  time  six  were  captured,  also  four 
American  prisoners.  One  of  the  latter  was 
Private  Fargo  who  was  ordered  sent  round  to 
Manila  by  sea  as  soon  as  able  to  travel.  \\"\ih 
him  came  Sabino  to  stand  trial  for  his  life. 

Arraigned  before  officials  and  bidden  to  ac- 
Cf)unt  for  the  possession  of  Private  Fargo's 
pocketbook  and  all  that  money.  Sabino 
promptly  and  confidentially  said  that  Sefior 
Fargo  had  given  them  to  him ;  nor  did  official 
scoffing  shake  his  statement.  Private  Fargo, 
summoned  before  the  same  presence,  was  con- 
fronted with  the  prisoner  and  asked  how  much, 
if  any,  of  his  statement  was  true. 

"All  of  it."  said  Fargo  promptly,  to  the 
amaze  of  the  provost  marshal. 

"Then  ask  him  what  the  devil  he  ran  away 


A    CONQrERIXf,    CORl'S    RADGK.  39 

for."  said  the  Ci)l(iiiel.  U^  the  interpreter,  and 
the  tlemnnd  was  fairly  rendered.  Sd  was  the 
response. 

"The  culprit  says  he  didn't  run — he  was 
kicked  out" — a  reply  at  which  the  pencils  of 
the  correspondents  fairly  tlew. 

■'Will  you  explain  how  you  came  to  give  this 
man  so  much  money?"  asked  the  deputy  pro- 
vost marshal,  of  the  private. 

A  faint  flush  rose  instantly  to  the  young  sol- 
dier's temples.  He  glanced  quickly  about  him 
as  though  to  see  who  might  be  present.  Coates 
sat  glowering  by  a  window  of  the  great  stone 
building — a  window  overlooking  the  grass- 
grown  parapet,  the  old  Botanical  Garden  be- 
yond, then  the  long  curve  of  the  dusty  road- 
way, with  the  stone  towers  of  the  Puente  Col- 
gante,  the  wide-spreading,  tent-surrounded 
buildings  of  the  l''irst  Reserve  Hospital,  and 
between  them  the  shaded  enclosure  of  the 
Estad(^  Mayor.  Over  there,  half  a  mile  away 
as  the  crow  flies,  a  blue-eyed  girl  in  black  was 
l)ending  over  the  columns  of  figures  on  the 
glaring  page  before  her.  and  I-'argc*  knew  it. 
for  only  a  few  days  before  an  attendant  had 
brought  him  a  little  packet  with  the  beautiful 


40  A    CONOUEKING    CORPS    BAUGi:. 

corps  badge  he  had  never  looked  to  see  again. 
The  only  message  with  it  was  a  line : 

"Found  at  Major  Bellingham's  quarters, 
Ballybag,  September  14th,  '99.  dropped  pos- 
sibly by  Sabino  who  disappeared  on  the  after- 
noon of  that  date."  Fargo  "back  tracked"  it 
all  the  way  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  at  the 
Estado  Mayor,  and  there  learned  that  Miss 
Bellingham  had  sent  it.  She  had  a  desk  in  an 
office  close  at  hand,  they  said,  and  there  Fargo 
found  her,  yet  looked  upon  his  humble  imi- 
form,  faltered  in  the  presence  of  his  dead 
major's  daughter  and  withdrew  without  seek- 
ing speech  with  her. 

How  could  he  now  tell  these  men  that  it  was 
his  hand  that,  from  time  to  time,  sent  the  little 
gifts  of  flowers  and  fruit,  that  his  money  had 
supplied  dainties  for  their  tabic  when  others 
had  to  go  without,  that  it  was  to  keep  up  the 
supply  during  his  absence  on  scout  that  he  had 
hastily  thrust  the  book  into  Sabino's  receptive 
palm  as  he  rushed  away  in  the  gloaming  at 
sound  of  the  bugle — never  questioning  Sa- 
bino's probity,  never  noting  till  next  day  that 
the  corps  badge,  too,  was  gone.  A  weary 
scout  was  that  with  Cross.    Filled  with  strange 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  4 1 

foreboding  was  he  from  the  very  start,  and 
when  at  last  they  reached  the  river  on  the 
homeward  way  and  found  the  ferry  cables 
gone,  Fargo  slipped  down  the  bank  to  a  clump 
of  huts  he  had  many  a  time  marked  from  dis- 
tant Ballybag.  and  hired  a  Chinaman  to  set 
him  ashore  at  the  old  stone  bridge  within  sight 
of  the  roof  that  sheltered  her — he  could  not 
wait — and  that  move  led  him  straight  into  the 
clutches  of  the  insurgent  foe.  Hours  before 
the  fight  began  he  had  been  whisked  away  into 
the  jungle  and  months  of  captivity.  Xot  un- 
til now  had  he  learned  that  Sabino  had  thriftly 
hung  on  to  the  cash.  Not  until  now  had  he 
really  connected  him  with  the  disappearance  of 
his  costly  corps  badge. 

And  now  they  wi-shed  to  know  how  he  came 
to  entrust  such  a  sum  to  so  faithless  a  servitor, 
and  he  shrank  fnmi  the  telling. 

'"I — prefer  nr>t  to  say."  was  nt  last  the  hesi' 
tant  reply. 

"Surely  not  because  it  would  incriminate 
yourself?"  frowned  the  e.xamining  officer. 

"Xo.  sir.  not  at  all  I" 

*'Then  the  court  martial  will  compel  it.  so 
why  not  now?" 


42  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

Why,  indeed,  if  they  knew  all  about  that 
corps  badge,  too  ?  How  was  he  to  suppose  that 
she  had  kept  that  secret  to  herself — that  she, 
he  and  the  faithless  Sabino  were  the  only  ones 
who  could  tell  the  contents  of  the  little  packet 
])rought  in  at  the  First  Reserve.  Yet,  how 
could  he  shame  her  by  confession  of  his  mani- 
fold and  lavish  gifts,  and  the  purpose,  too,  of 
his  leaving  money  with  Sabino  ?  What  might 
not  be  said  of  her,  his  commander's  daughter, 
receiving  the  bounty  of — a  private  soldier? 
Let  the  court  martial  compel  reply,  if  compel 
it  could!  •  At  least  until  then  he  would  be 
dumb. 

A    moment    of    profound    silence    ensued, 

"Take  that  man  back  under  guard,"  were 
the  orders  of  the  provost  marshal. 

Full  five  days  elapsed  before  the  assembly  of 
that  court,  and  much,  in  matters  military,  can 
be  effected  even  half  around  the  globe  within 
that  time. 

"You're  checkmated,"  said  a  high  official  at 
the  Ayuntamicnto,  to  the  judge  advocate,  and 
held  forth  a  cable  despatch  from  the  Secretary 
of  War.  In  brief,  curt  cipher  it  directed  the 
immediate  discharge  from  service  of  Private 


A    CONgUERIXC;    CORPS    BADGE.  43 

P.  Fargo.  Company  "X" — L'.  S.  Infantry. 
Once  more  was  Phil  a  sovereign  citizen  who 
conld  not  be  made  to  testify  before  a  military 
CDurt — the  experience  of  even  a  Presidentialiy 
ordered  martial  triljunal  having  demonstrated 
that,  in  Chicago,  at  least,  it  has  no  rights  either 
the  press  or  the  public  can  be  made  to  respect. 

It  must  be  said  of  Fargo  that  he  behaved 
toward  his  late  "oppressors"  with  rare  mag- 
nanimity. The  transition  from  soldier  to  civil 
life  in  Manila  is  easy,  since  the  simplest  of 
white  raiment  ser\"es  as  "Sumlay  best"  for 
bt->th  and  such  garb  is  quickly  made  even  in  the 
land  of  mafiana.  Fargo  couldn't  give  much  of 
a  dinner  because  of  the  poverty  of  the  Manila 
market  and  the  limitations  of  Manila  restaur- 
ants. l)ut  Mumm  in  abundance,  properly  cooled, 
covereth  a  multitude  of  short  comings,  and 
Mumm  was  the  word  even  when  a  laughing 
grouj)  of  e.xiles.  mainly  shoulder-strapped, 
gathered  to  congratulate  him  on  the  record  he 
had  made  in  the  ranks  and  on  his  speedy  return 
to  the  States. 

"Well.  1  may  not  return — at  once."  said 
Fargo,  again  flushing  a  bit.      "1  may  run  over 


44  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

to  Hong  Kong-  first,"  he  added,  hurriedly,  as 
he  caught  Coates's  eye. 

And  Coates  was  thinking — hard. 

So  was  Bessie  Bellingham,  who  had  heard 
promptly  enough  how  Fargo  had  refused  to  tell 
about  that  money,  and  who  well  knew  who  else 
could  have  told, — at  least  who  could  have 
guessed,  though  she  wouldn't  tell  for  the 
world.  To  think  of  his  submitting  to  arrest, 
threats,  punishment  rather  than  tell  what 
might  have  told  the  whole  story!  To  think 
that  mother's  ''fine  looking  young  man," — de- 
spite the  flapping  campaign  hat,  the  flannel 
shirt,  the  sliced-off  khaki  inexpressibles — was 
a  club  young  man,  a  college  young  man,  a 
young  man  of  the  "capitalistic  class" !  She 
had  encountered  that  term  somewhere  in  the 
course  of  her  reading  aloud  to  papa  in  the  long 
winter  evenings  before  the  outbreak  of  the  war. 
A  big  tear  fell  on  the  back  of  the  slender  white 
hand  as  she  recalled  those  homelike  hours  after 
her  return  from  school  days  in  the  East.  How 
fond  and  proud  he  had  been !  What  comfort 
he  had  taken  in  her  devotion  to  him !  What 
uneasiness  he  had  shown  when  the  youngsters 
came  in  to  call  and  break  up  their  cozy  hours 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  45 

together!  He  was  ever  so  afraid  some  young 
officer  would  come  in  and  carry  her  off, — and 
mamma  so  correspondingly  afraid  that  some 
one  would  not ! — all  that  first  winter  of  her 
home  coming. — the  only  one  of  all  they. had 
hoped  and  planned  for, — the  only  one,  after 
all,  for  in  April  the  regiment  had  been  ordered 
away  to  Cuba  and  from  there  back  to  Wyom- 
ing, just  to  pack  up  for  Manila.  And  now 
there  was  no  dear  old  daddy,  fond  and  proud, 
to  read  to  and  rejoice  in.  She  could  read,  she 
might  read  to  mamma,  but — 

And  now  mamma,  querulous  and  com- 
plaining, was  calling  from  an  inner  room 
— they  had  but  two — and  the  girl  set 
down  upr>n  the  broad  white  window  ledge 
the  old  opera  glass  which  had  so  often 
gazed  out  over  the  fields  and  flats  and 
floods  about  Ballybag,  and  through  which  she 
had  been  studying  the  swift-darting  carriages 
over  along  the  sea  wall  of  the  Luneta.  The 
day  had  been  insupportably  hot,  the  glare  in- 
tense. The  evening  breeze  off  the  beautiful 
bay  was  now  soft,  cool  and  inviting.  It  was 
the  first  really  restful  hour,  and  mamma 
seemed  tn  realize  it  and  called  her.      Bess  went 


46  A    CONQUKRINC,    CORPS    HADGK. 

Willi  a  sigh.  Perhai)s  she  felt  what  was  com- 
ing. Perhaps  she  was  only  mindful  of  a  cer- 
tain maternal  peculiarity  that  used  to  prompt 
that  piously  disposed  matron,  in  her  hours  of 
ease  and  dejection,  to  summon  the  child  from 
her  joyous  companions,  and  to  sober  her 
daughter's  blithe  spirits  by  long  homilies  on 
the  uncertainty  of  human  life  and  die  liollow- 
ness  of  human  affection,  with  especial  refer- 
ence to  her  father's  short-comings  in  the  latter 
line.  Having  spent  eight  hours  of  the  day  in 
labor  that  the  mother  might  not  want,  it  now 
behooved  the  girl  to  spend  another,  at  least,  in 
listening  to  her  upbraidings. 

"1  suppose  you  know  Mr.  Coates  has  been 
to  see  me,"  was  the  salutation,  and  the  elder 
slowly  i)lied  her  big  Chinese  fan  and  narrowly 
watched  her  daughter  as  she  spoke. 

"He  comes  almost  every  day,  doesn't  he?" 
was  the  guarded  answer,  as  Bessie  sank  into  a 
seat  near  the  maternal  lounging  chair. 

"Almost!"  impatiently.  "Ezrry  day,  and 
you  know  it,  Elizabeth!"  Mrs.  Bellingham 
could  never  bear  that  name.  It  was  that  of  her 
husband's  favorite  sister,  now  deceased.  She 
used  it  onlv   on    state   (Occasions    or    when  she 


A    CONQUERIXt;    CORPS    BAIKiE.  47 

wished  to  he  unusually  impressive  if  n(»t  severe. 
"Moreover,  you  knnw  it's  liigh  time  you  ^avc 
liim  an  answer." 

'"Another?" 

"Ves,  another!  A  ihttercnt  one.  it  you  will 
have  it.  and  he  deserves  it  after  all  he's  done 
for  you — and  within  a  file  of  his  captaincy.  t(jo 
— and  sure  to  get  it  this  month."  Mamma  was 
bridling  and  the  fan  going  at  speed. 

"The — answer,  do  you  mean?"  now  t(ueries 
Miss  Bellingham.  guilelessly,  yet  guiltily.  She 
knows  better.  Moreover,  she  knows  that  be- 
fore she  knew  of  Fargo — and  even  after  that — 
and  while  she  had  reasiMi  to  know  of  Coates's 
plighted  troth,  she — she  let  Coates  come  every 
day  in  growing  admiration,  because — oi 
course. — because  it  was  perfectly  safe,  he  being 
pledged  to  another  and  presumably  in  love. 
She  had  even  allowed  herself  to  be  what  Mr. 
Howells  calls  "intentionally  beautiful"  at 
Ballybag.and  for  C<uites's  arrient  eyes  and  Miss 
Cross's  envious  contemplation. — Kitty  being 
five  cyclesher  senior  in  years. and  several  shades 
her  inferior  in  attractions.  W'iiat  harm  could 
there  be  when  he  had  sup])osably  no  eyes  ex- 
cept fcr  lii>.  P,;iltiin')rf  bciutv?*     .Xnd  n<>\v  that 


48  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

brave,  stupid,  foolish  fellow  had  gone  and  for- 
gotten his  far-away  love  and  allowed  his  affec- 
tions to  fasten  on  her ! 

"His  captaincy,  I  mean,"  says  mamma,  "and 
it's  much  more  than  you  deserve.  When  I 
married,  your  father  was  only  a  second  lieute- 
nant. Don't  think  you  can  aft'ord  to  fool  away 
your  time  here."  (Mamma,  alas!  did  not  use 
the  diction  prescribed  at  Ogontz)  "Girls 
are  coming  by  every  boat,  but  bachelors  are 
scarcer  than — than  ice — No,  I  can't  see  any 
one  this  evening,  Felippy," — this  to  a  Filipino 
lad,  who  appeared  barefooted  and  patient  at 
the  doorway,  a  card  extended  in  his  brown 
fingers.     "Who  is  it,  Bessie?" 

"A — a  gentleman  who  called  at  the  Bureau 
yesterday,"  falters  Miss  Bellingham,  with 
color  suddenly  rising.  Had  Coates  enlight- 
ened mamma  as  to  Mr.  Fargo's  transforma- 
tion? She  herself  had  never  referred  to  it — 
nor  to  him.  Their  sole  reception  room  was 
the  partially  enclosed  veranda  at  the  front,  and 
thither  had  "Felippy"  conducted  the  caller  be- 
fore coming  to  thus  mutely  announce  him. 

"Mr.  P.  Fargo,  University  Club,  San  Fran- 
cisco," reads  mamma  from  the  card  dutifully 


A    ^.0.\(Jl   KKI  Nt,    tiiKl'.s    i'.ADGE.  49 

passed  tu  her.  '"I'm  sure  /  know  of  no  such 
])erson.  If  this  is  any  reason  why  you — you 
are  playing  fast  and  loose  with  Sam  Coates — " 

-Mother!" 

■'Well,  next  time  he  comes  you'll  just  have 
to  see  him  for  yourself.  1  shan't.  What's  this 
Mr.  Fargo  like? — " 

But  the  daughter  had  fled  to  her  little  sanc- 
tum within  and  was  dashing  cool  water  on  her 
wri.-ts  and  hrow.  She  looked — ayd  was — 
composure  itself  when  she  joined  Mr.  Fargo 
on  the  gallery,  and  found  him,  as  she  was 
awhile  ago,  gazing  out  on  the  Luneta,  now 
fast  fading  under  the  robe  of  night. 

\'cry  presentable  looked  Mr.  Fargo  in  im- 
maculate white  drilling,  with  silken  gloves  and 
hose  and  canvas  shoes  as  snowy,  and  a  face 
well  nigh  as  pale.  Just  one  speck  of  color  ap- 
peared on  his  dainty  garb.  The  little  jeweled 
corps  badge  in  scarlet,  l)luc  and  white  enamel 
and  polished  gold  hung  at  his  left  breast.  He 
looked  so  cool  and  fresh  and  white,  and  her 
garb  was  so  black  and  sombre,  but  he  never 
seemed  to  see  it  as  he  turned  and  greeted  her 
— eagerly. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  forgive  my  intruding  so 


50  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

soon  again,'"  said  he.     "I  have — news.     I  am 
called  at  once  to  Hong  Kong." 

The  1)lue  eyes  looked  up  instantly  into  the 
brown.  This  Avas  so  diflferent  from  what  he 
had  told  her — yesterday. 

"Yes.  they  cabled  me  to-day.  Father's  cor- 
respondent in  the  China  trade  is  very  ill  and  I 
am  needed.  They  expected  me  to  he  there  ten 
days  since,  really,  but — " 

"Won't  you  be  seated.  jMr.  Fargo?  ^Mother 
will  be  here — directly.''  It  was  one  way  at 
least  of  letting  him  know  he  was  detaining  un- 
necessarily a  long,  slim,  white  hand. 

"Oh,  thanks,  yes.''  And  now  Mr.  Fargo 
remembers  that  he  should  have  asked  for 
mother,  as  he  lowers  himself  into  a  cane  chair 
six  feet  away  and  three  feet  broad  and  deep, 
while  Miss  Bellingham  slowly  settles  upon  a 
light  bamboo  and  leans  an  elbow  on  the  broad 
ledge  of  the  gallery.  It  is  getting  darker  still 
and  the  electric  globes  are  sparkling  over  at 
the  kiosk  and  all  along  the  Luenta  drive. 
Every  now  and  then  a  carriage  whisks  along 
under  their  perch,  its  white-garbed  occupants 
looking  up  and  lifting  their  white-topped  caps, 
for  Miss  Bellingham  is  very  much  looked  up 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  5 1 

to  and  admired  in  army  circles.  Most  of  the 
linesmen  are  away  at  the  front,  but  guards 
must  be  maintained,  and  staff  officers  in 
swarms  are  needed  in  Manila.  The  big  chair 
is  too  big — too  far  away,  perhaps,  for  Mr. 
Fargo  impatiently  heaves  his  long  length  out 
of  its  depths  and  impulsively  draws  nearer  to 
her.  Bess  herself  is  tall,  but  Mr.  Fargo  has 
nearly  six  feet  to  his  credit  and  bears  it  well. 
Now  his  white  elbow  comes  down  on  the  rail 
as  he  bends  toward  her.  his  dark  eyes  seeking 
the  bright  blue. 

"Yes,"  he  continues,  his  thin  face  working 
oddly,  and  his  eyes  glowing  into  hers  as  at 
first  she  lifts  them — bravely,  "I  ought  to  have 
gone  as  soon  as  my  discharge  was  ordered,  but 
I — just  missed  the  Esmeralda — At  least,"  he 
hurries  on.  "I  wasn't  ready.  Miss  Belling- 
ham.  Fve  got  to  be  at  the  general's  this  even- 
ing and  to  sail  at  dawn.  There  was  no  way  of 
asking  permission  to  call  upon  you, — no  time 
to  be  conventional.  I  beg  you  to  pardon  it, — 
to  believe  that  under  other  circumstances  I 
should  have  sought  permission.  Fve  come — 
There  was  something  else  I  wanted  and  could 
not  ask  vmi  for  at  the — office.     Vou  sent  me 


5-2  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

my  corps  badge,  but,  that — little  blue  ribbon 
that  was  with  it — ^iDray,  didn't  you  find  that, 
too?" 

Indeed  she  had !  the  very  ribbon  that  blew 
away  unseen  by  her  or  her  companions  that 
breezy  evening  when  Coates  so  cavalierly 
acknowledged  the  "present"  of  the  "fine  look- 
ing young  soldier"  on  No.  3.  Indeed  she  had, 
and  had  unrolled  it  with  wonderment  and 
strange  emotion  of  pleasure,  and  had  guarded 
it  carefully  ever  since — even  though  now  she 
mendaciously  falters : — 

"Find  it? — O,  yes,  but  I — didn't  suppose  it 
had  any  value." 

"Value !"  he  cries,  and  now  he  bends  still 
closer  to  her.  and  she  cannot  but  shrink  a  little, 
so  eager  is  the  movement,  so  glowing  is  his 
gaze,  so  thrilling  his  tone.  "Miss  Bellingham, 
I've  come  to  beg  for  it.  -I  cannot  go  without 
it.  I  wore  that  ribbon  near  my  heart  until  the 
night  we  hurried  away.  It  dragged  out  with 
the  pocketbook,  I  suppose,  and  probably  Sabino 
found  it.  I  want  it  again.  Ah,  don't  draw 
away.  I've  got  to  say  it,  no  matter  how  sud- 
den it  may  seem,  I've  loved  you  ever  since  I 
saw  you  there  at  Ballybag — loved  you  so  that 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    P.ADGE.  53 

I  can't  2^<)  and  leave  you  here  slaving  in  this 
scorching  climate.  Oh.  look  at  me,  Bessie! 
Look  up  into  my  eyes — read  it  for  yourself — 
Can't  you  see  how  I  love  you?  Giz'c  me  my 
ribbon  that  1  may  know  1  may  come  back  to 
you — 1(^)  l)eg  you  to  be  my  wife." 

\\'ho  was  it  said  "lieware  of  entangling  alli- 
ances?" Shades  of  the  immortal  George! 
Whoever  dreamed  that  in  faraway  Manila, 
within  easy  sail  of  the  oldest  philosophy  of  the 
world,  these,  his  children  of  a  nation  barely  a 
century  old.  should  so  far  forget  the  teachings 
of  the  father  of  his  coimtry !  "Entangling  alli- 
ances," indeed!  Hers  was  a  straight  backed, 
stiff-backed  chair.  She  couldn't  draw  away 
fartlier  even  were  she  so  inclined.  On  the 
left  breast  of  the  snowy  sack  coat  just  over  his 
bounding  heart  that  pretty  corps  badge,  obey- 
ing the  natural  law  of  gravitation  and  seeking 
the  vertical  now  that  he  was  leaning  so  far  for- 
ward, was  dangling  from  its  golden  bar.  and 
there  was  her  curling  crop  of  golden  hair,  its 
tendrils  twining  instinctively  as  the  vine  about 
anv  [)rojecting  support.  Only  for  an  instant, 
oh.  certainly  only  for  the  merest  instant —  and 
bv  the  merest  accident,   those  lovelv  tendrils. 


54  A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE. 

that  dainty,  dangling,  tangling  corps  badge  are 
in  juxtaposition,  but,  "a  miss  is  good  as  a  mile," 
that  instant  is  good  as  an  age,  for  when 
"Felippy"  comes  shuffling  in  with  a  lamp,  just 
preceding  mamma  and  her  fan,  corps  badge  and 
curls  are  hopelessly  entwined.  Her  blushes 
are  beautiful  to  see.  Her  struggles  are  frantic. 
There  is  no  need  of  blue  ribbon  to  wrap  round 
that  martial  insignia  when  at  last  she  tears 
loose,  for  his  efforts  to  unfasten  it  are  vain. 
The  twin  circles  of  the  Eighth  Corps  are 
twined  with  golden  hair,  and  mamma  stands 
glaring  at  the  "fine  looking  young  soldier"  of 
Ballybag  days,  practically  embracing  her 
•daughter,  for  his  left  arm  is  certainly  around 
her  as  he  aids  her  to  rise. 

"Well — I  declare !"  says  madame,  unable  to 
say  anything  else. 

"That's — just  what  I've  been  doing,"  says 
Fargo,  promptly  facing  the  inevitable.  "But 
— it  was  rather  sudden.  I  suppose,  and  I — 
haven't  had  much  experience,"  he  adds,  in  hap- 
less humility. 

"Elizabeth,  is  not  this  the  young  man  that — 
Oh,  what  zuoiild  your  poor  father  have  said?  I 
wonder  you  can  look  Mr.  Coates  in  the  face!" 


A    CONQUERING    CORPS    BADGE.  55 

This  is  too  much  for  Miss  Bellingham.  She 
starts  from  her  lover's  side,  a  flash  in  her  bright 
blue  eyes.  '"Mother!"  she  cries,  "father  would 
have  blessed — "  but  gives  way  to  a  flood  of  in- 
dignant tears,  for  there  stands  Lieutenant 
Coates,  speechless,  at  the  door. 

"Excuse  me."  stammers  the  intruder.  "I 
knocked  twice,  and  the  doors  were  open  and 
Felipe  beckoned,  but  I  didn't  mean  to  inter- 
rupt." 

In  the  language  of  the  day  "it  was  up  to 
Fargo."  He  alone  can  explain  and  right  man- 
fully he  does  it.  "Mrs.  Bellingham,"  he  says, 
w  ith  a  little  choke  in  his  voice  that  seems  to  fit 
in  with  the  words,  "I  was  the  young  man  in — 
the  lieutenant's  company.  I  enlisted  from  sen- 
timental motives,  perhaps.  So  did  other  fellows 
I  know,  and  Fm  neither  sorry  nor  ashamed. 
It  brought  me  to — your  daughter.  So  long  as 
1  was  a  soldier  I  couldn't  speak,  for  all  I  loved 
her.  Now  I  am  free,  yet  must  go  to  China  in 
the  morning.  I  should  have  come  first  to  yuu, 
I  admit,  but  there  was  no  time.  I  have  begged 
Miss  Bellingham  to  be  my  wife,  and  I'm  com- 
ing back  to  get  my  answer." 

Then  he  turns  to  her.  his  lips  trembling: 


56  A  CONQUERING  CORPS  BADGE. 

"Forgive  me  for  this  scene — that  my  awk- 
wanhiess  has  caused  you.  1  must  go  at  once, 
l)ut  I  shall  write.  Good-night,  Miss  Bessie," 
and  he  bows  over  her  lini])  white  hand  like  a 
courtier  of  old.  "Good-night,  Mrs.  Belling- 
ham."  and  he  bends  in  formal  respect,  almost  in 
stately  obeisance,  to  the  elder  lady,  speechless 
for  the  nonce  behind  her  fan.  "G(^od-night — 
Mr.  Coates,"  and  the  inclination  to  his  late 
superior  officer  is  just  what  civility  requires, 
and  Avith  another,  a  comprehensive,  bow,  at  the 
threshold,  Mr.  Fargo  steps  forth  into  the  night 
and  his  waiting  carriage. 

The  little  brown  imp  of  a  coachman  had  been 
saving  of  his  candles.  The  lamps  were  not  yet 
lighted,  and  regulations  were  strict  on  that 
point.  It  had  to  be  done  before  the)'^  coulcj 
start,  and  meantime  down  came  Coates.  looking 
aimless  and  dazed.  Moreover  he  was  still 
lame,  and  the  men  at  least  had  loved  him  for  a 
brave  and  kindly  officer. 

"May  I  drive  you  anywhere  in  town,  Mr. 
Coates?"  said  Fargo.  "I'm  going  right  up  to 
the  palace."  Something  in  her  face  had  filled 
his  heart  with  li('i)c  and  gladness  and  charity 


A   CONQUERING  CORPS  BADGK.  57 

for  all  men,  and  his  hand  was  clasped  upon  the 
soft,  silken  tendrils  still  hanging  on  his  breast. 

"Thanks — nuich  obliged — I  believe  not  to- 
night." said  Coates.  as  he  limped  away,  think- 
ing- ruetnllv  that  he  was  driven  whether  he 
would  or  no.  He  wasn't  over  brilliant,  but  he 
had  read  and  seen  enough. 

P^argo  was  gone  nearly  two  months,  but  long 
before  his  return  the  engagement  of  Miss  Bel- 
lingham  was  announced  by  mamma ;  long,  in- 
deed, before  Miss  Bellingham  would  have  an- 
nounced it  herself,  and  some  fabulous  tales 
were  afloat,  indirectly  traceable  to  the  exultant 
matron,  concerning  Fargo's  wealth  and  social 
positic^n.  Mrs.  Bellingham.  for  a  woman  wid- 
ow-ed  and  woe-begone  so  short  a  time  before. 
had  displayed  remarkable  powers  of  recupera- 
tion— "was  in  her  glory,"  said  certain  envious 
mothers,  with  daughters  of  their  own  not  yet 
provided  for.  It  was  c|uite  the  romance  of  the 
early  .spring.  It  was  a  beautiful  ring  the  happy 
felUnv  slipped  upon  that  slender  finger  the  night 
of  his  return,  and  .she  thanked  him  with  shy 
delight  and  love  in  her  beaming  eyes. 

'•\\'1h>  di>  VI  )U  supp(»sc  was  buying  another  in 


58  A  CONQUERING  CORPS  BADGE. 

the  same  shop?"  is  tlie  laughing  question,  a 
Httle  later. 

"Captain  Coates?"  she  answers,  interroga- 
tively. "He  said  he  was  going  by  way  of 
Hong  Kong  when  he  bade  us  good-bye." 

"Captain  Coates  it  was!  and  the  ring  was  for 
a  Baltimore  girl.  He  told  me  they'd  been  en- 
gaged for  nearly  two  years,  and  d'you  know, 
sweetheart,  1  fancied — "  and  Mr.  Fargo  pauses, 
reflectively. 

"What — Mr.  Fargo?"  The  woman  in  her 
may  resent  all  accusation  of  having  in  the  least 
degree  encouraged  other  admirations,  yet  in  no 
wise  does  it  repel  assertion  of  their  existence. 

"Mr.  Fargo,  indeed!"  he  remonstrates,  vehe- 
mently. "Can't  you  call  me  Philip  yet?  Your 
mother  finds  it  easy,"  he  adds,  with  whimsical 
delight,  but  the  instant  shadow  on  her  f(3nd  and 
lovely  face  covers  him  with  self  reproach.  "For- 
give me.  Bessie,"  he  murmurs,  all  love  and  con- 
trition on  the  instant.  "I  want  to  be  Philip  to 
her — to  all  who  are  near  and  dear  to  you,  but 
to  you  most  of  all,"  and  now  his  arms  encircle 
her  and  draw  her  to  his  breast — mamma  hav- 
ing considerately  left  them  to  their  own  devices 
and    sent    Felipe    to    the    commissary's.     She 


A  CONQUERING  CORPS  BAIXIE.  59 

nestles  there  one  moment,  with  drooping  head. 
It  is  all  so  new  and  sweet  and  strange  a  happi- 
ness, and  work  and  want  and  care  seem  now  so 
very  far  away.  His  lips  are  pressing  kisses  on 
her  rippling  hair,  but  the  fair  face  is  pillowed 
beyond  their  reach,  and  he  so  longs  for  it.  An 
effort  to  upraise  it  results  only  in  its  burrowing 
the  more  closely — deeply,  whereat,  instead  of 
rejoicing  in  the  blissful  contact,  he  suddenly 
flinches,  and  most  unaccountably,  unromantic- 
ally  says  "Ouch !" 

The  bonny  head  pops  up  instanter,  prompt 
consternation  in  the  big  blue  eyes. 

"Oh  I  I've  hurt  you!"  she  cries. 

"T'wasn't  you — It's — something  way  in- 
side." he  says,  and  opening  the  loose,  Manila- 
made,  grass-cloth  coat,  his  hand  explores  be- 
neath, exposing  the  white  silken  shirt  and,  as 
it  withdraws,  drags  partially  to  light  an  end  of 
a  frayed,  bright  blue  ribbon,  whereat  the 
blushes  deepen  on  her  dimpling  cheek.  "It's 
the  pin  of  that  blessed  corps  badge,"  says 
Fargo.  "The  thing  got  twisted  in  the  inner 
pocket  and  spiked  me  in  the  ribs.  It's  all  right 
now."  and  again  the  arms  enfold  her.  Shyly 
she  drops  her  head  ui"ti  b!<  ^boulder,  the  slcn- 


6o  A  CONQUERING  CORPS  BADGE. 

der,  white  hand  whereon  the  beautiful  ring  is 
gleaming,  creeps  up  and  timidly  draws  to  light 
an  inch  or  two  of  the  prized  blue  ribbon.  He 
seizes  hand  and  ribbon  both  and  draws  them  to 
his  lips. 

''It  seemed  a  mighty  long  time  before  that 
little  ribbon  came  back  to  me  over  the  China 
Sea,  Miss  Bellingham.  I  began  to  think  Coates 
had  the  inside  track — and  that  it  wasn't  I — but 
the  corps  badge  that  drew  you  here — that  won- 
derful evening." 

"Oh — you — drczv  all  right,"  answers  Miss 
Bellingham,  falling  unconsciously  into  the  lan- 
guage of  the  camp  and  the  Corps.  Then,  dimp- 
ling again,  delight  and  mischief  mingling  in  her 
hai)py,  hidden  face,  she  waits  an  instant ;  then — 
bcwilderingly.  bewitchingly  pretty,  she  glances 
up  into  his  eyes,  "But  it  was  the  badge  that — 
ilidn't — let  2'0." 


J 


- ''       r 


'4- 


i 


"PIT-A-i'ATTY. 


JACK  ROYAL. 


"A  fiueer  thing  happened  out  there  at  Block 
House  1 1  t'  other  night."  began  the  aide-de- 
camp. "Royal  was  on  guard  and  a  carriage 
came  bounding  over  Concordia  Bridge — " 

And  here  the  aide-de-camp  stopped  short  and 
turned  sharply  on  a  brother  staff  officer  who 
had  with  prompt  and  amazing  vigor  brought 
his  booted  heel  down  on  the  toes  of  the 
speaker. 

"What  in  h — "  again  began  the  aide-de- 
camp, in  agonized  query,  then  again  stopped 
short  at  sight  of  the  offender's  face.  In  dumb 
show  his  brother  officer  was  all  but  saying. 
"Shut  up.you  idiot  !"as  he  glanced  significantly 
to  where  a  middle  aged  civilian  sat  in  earnest 
converse  with  the  General. 

It  was  just  after  dinner,  and  dinner  in 
Manila  in  the  days  preceding  the  outbreak  of 


62  JACK    ROYAL. 

hostilities  in  l-cbruary.  1899,  was  not  the 
movable  feast  it  became  later  in  the  campaign. 
At  7:30  sharp  the  Filipino  major  domo,  yclept 
Marcelino,  expected  the  General,  his  staff  and 
the  few  guests  from  the  neighboring  barracks 
or  from  town  to  take  their  seats  before  permit- 
ting the  procession  to  enter  from  the  outer  re- 
gions. Then 
"Foremost  and  bearing  the  bowl 
Came  the  Philippine's  practical  neighbor" 
in  the  person  of  Ah  Lung,  chef  dc  cuisine — a 
graduate  of  the  Hong  Kong  ciub  and  a  knight 
commander  of  the  Order  of  the  Skillet,  and 
Ah  Lung's  smile  was  broad  as  he  deposited  the 
huge  tureen  in  front  of  the  General,  for  it  was 
a  fad  of  that  single — and  sometimes  ill-starred 
veteran  personally  to  serve  the  baker's  dozen 
daily  in  evidence  at"  their  hospitable  board. 
Following  at  the  heels  of  Ah  Lung,  in  spotless 
white,  came  Fabian  and  Manuelito,  natives 
here  and  to  the  manner  born,  who  were  the 
official  waiters  of  the  brigade  mess,  and  who 
took  station,  respectively,  to  the  right  and  left 
rear  of  the  "Old  Man,"  as,  through  later  revela- 
tions, it  was  established  the  brigadier  was  be- 
dubbed  by  his  staff.     Over  the  ceremony  cere- 


JACK    l<()^  Ai..  63 

moniously  presided  Marcellino.  graduate  of  the 
menage  of  a  Spanish  grandee  who  had  come 
to  Manila  to  repair  his  fallen  fortunes  at  the 
expense  of  those  that  remained  to  the  luckless 
natives.  It  had  l^een  the  habit  of  the  General 
and  his  statif.  earlier  in  the  winter,  to  sit  at  mess 
in  the  cool  white  garb  so  suited  to  the  climate, 
but  matters  at  the  front  had  changed  all  that. 
Every  night  of  late  the  chief  and  his  retainers 
had  spent  riding  the  line,  with  occasional  cat- 
naps in  I'aco  suburb,  out  Santa  Ana  way,  and, 
as  men  had  to  be  at  their  posts  early  in  the 
night,  it  resulted  that  only  those  who  were  not 
"on  watch"  came  to  table  in  white;  the  chief 
in  blue  serge  or  khaki  and  the  aides  in  either, 
giving  a  diversity  to  the  coloring  of  the  board. 
And  this  night  there  happened  in  a  civilian 
whose  customary  suit  of  solemn  black  was  un- 
relieved by  glaring  white  shirt  front.  He  was 
buttoned  up  in  sombre  alpaca :  had  just  re- 
turned from  Hong  Kong;  had  no  dress  clothes 
nearer  than  his  home  at  Santa  Ana;  had  need 
to  see  the  General,  he  said,  on  personal  busi- 
ness, and.  despite  his  protests,  was  induced  to 
stay.  dine,  and  was  now  taking  a  post  prandial 
smoke  in  :m  o;i<v  clKiir  out  on  the  l)road  ve- 


^4  JACK    ROVAI.. 

randa  tliat  overlooked  the  ever  1)eantifiil   bay 
of  Manila. 

It  was  a  lovely  January  evening,  soft,  still 
and  starlit.  The  rythmical  plash  of  the  wave- 
lets on  the  sandy  beach  fell  in  soothing  ca- 
dence on  the  ear.  The  distant  war  dogs  of 
the  Yankee  fleet  off  Cavite  were  trying  their 
search  lights  and  tossing  great  beams  of  silver 
athwart  the  skies,  ever  and  again  sweeping  the 
long  concave  semicircle  of  the  south  shore  with 
jealous  and  unwinking  eye,  and  "spiering"  as 
Bruce  said,  far  over  to  Manila.  Bruce  was  a 
high  functicuiary  of  the  Hong  Kong  and 
vShanghai  bank  and  a  pillar  of  the  English 
Club — and  church — and  Bruce,  a  welcome 
guest  at  any  time,  had  declined  to  stay  to  din- 
ner that  night.  He  pleaded  an  engagement, 
but  the  foot-crushing  aide  noted  that  not  until 
Bruce  saw  the  black-garbed  civilian  did  that 
engagement  occur  to  him.  He  had  gone  so 
far  as  to  take  an  ante  prandial  peg  with  the 
adjutant  general  in  that  official's  own  room 
and  then,  coming  out  on  the  rear  veranda 
where  sat  the  chief  in  converse  with  the  stran- 
ger, Bruce  had  shaken  hands  most  cordially 
w'ith  the  former  and  very  awkwardly  and  re- 


JACK    ROYAL.  65 

luctantly  with  the  latter.  It  was  plain  he 
didn't  like  him,  when  to  the  General's  "I  pre- 
sume you  know  yh.  Pettibone,"  Bruce  re- 
sponded. "Er — ah — yes.  yes.     How'  do?" 

I 'or  a  man  who  claimed  to  be  Boston  ^o  the 
backbone.  \Ir.  Pettibone  bore  few  of  the  birth- 
marks of  Back  Bay.  He  had  turned  up  in 
Manila  soon  after  the  American  occupation  in 
August,  and  was  energetic  in  business  of  some 
mysterious  kind.  He  had  pervaded  the  Ayun- 
tamiento  for  a  month  or  so  until  the  sentry  be- 
gan one  day  asking  his  business  before  letting 
him  up-stairs.  Then  he  was  much  in  evidence 
ab'  ut  the  depot  quartermaster's.  And  then 
there  arrived  his  family,  the  wife,  too  young 
looking  to  be  the  mother  of  either  the  callow 
youth  who  escorted  her,  or  of  his  sister,  the  one 
redeeming  member  of  the  family  circle.  She 
came  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  Jonas  Petti- 
bone had  lost  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  elect  and 
was  cold-shouldered  about  Manila  as  curtly  as 
though  he  sought  to  borrow  money. 

\\  hen  the  original  commander  of  the  depart- 
ment took  his  departure  he  bequeathed  his 
suspicions  of  Pettibone  to  his  revered  succes- 
S'T.  !)Ut  {!i;it   was  bofMri-  P;ittv   Pet  till,  .in-  ranie 


66  JACK    ROVAL. 

upon  the  scene.  "Pit-a-Patty"  the  young  offi- 
cers began  to  speak  of  her  presently,  in  allusion 
to  the  effect  she  had  on  the  hearts  of  her  ad- 
mirers, and  they  were  many.  Xor  was  her 
step  mother  deficient  in  charms,  though  some- 
what more  mature,  nor  was  she  averse  to  pa- 
rading them.  It  was  indeed  because  of  this 
proclivity  on  part  of  his  spouse  that  Pet  took 
alarm,  and  no  sooner  did  the  Insurgents  issue 
their  mandate  to  the  effect  that  the  Yankee 
officers  would  no  longer  be  allowed  to  visit  in 
the  villages  outside  the  line  encircling  Manila, 
than  lie  jumped  at  a  chance  to  rent  a  furnished 
house  in  Santa  Ana,  a  delightful  little  suburban 
town  on  the  bank  of  the  Pasig  not  three  miles 
from  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  thither  in  Janu- 
ary had  he  moved  Mrs.  "Pet",  as  I  regret  to 
say  the  youngsters  called  her,  Jonas,  Jr.,  who 
amounted  to  nothing,  and  "Pit-a-Patty"  who 
amounted  to  a  great  deal. 

Now,  while  living  in  ]\Ianila  the  Pets  had 
sported  a  very  natty  little  open  carriage  and 
pair,  and  madame  and  her  shy,  silent,  wistful- 
looking  stepdaughter  appeared  every  evening 
among  the  promenaders  en  voiture  along  the 
Luneta.     For  a  time,  too,  it  was  their  habit  to 


JACK     UOVAL.  67 

draw  up  to  the  curb  near  the  bandstand,  and 
there  they  were  speedily  joined  by  Parke  and 
Kitson.  subalterns  of  the  Fifty-third,  and 
sometimes  by  "Patsy"  Bolivar  of  the  Cavalry, 
and  always  by  handsome  Jack  Royal,  of  the 
Washingtons.  whose  company  was  quartered 
far  out  on  the  Calle  Xozaleda,  but  who  never 
minded  a  two-mile  tramp  each  way  or  cold 
soup  and  fish  on  his  return,  so  long  as  he  could 
look  love  for  thirty  minutes  into  the  eyes  of 
pretty  Patty  Pettibone.  Other  fellows  there  were 
who  would  gladly  have  cut  in  for  the  running 
and  cut  out  Jack,  but  he  took  no  chances.  Not 
until  they  began  doubling  the  outposts  and 
calling  on  his  company  for  duty  at  the  far 
front  did  he  miss  an  evening,  and  that  was  only 
just  before  Pet  moved  his  family  to  Santa 
Ana.  If.  then,  Jack  Royal  so  steadfastly  "held 
the  pole"  and  his  place  by  the  left  rear  wheel 
— Patty's  side — how  came  it  that  Parke,  Kit- 
son  and  Bolivar  were  so  constant?  Ask  Mrs. 
Pet.  Better  than  any  of  her  far-sighted  sex 
she  could  sec  just  how  far  she  had  impressed 
those  most  impressionable  young  warriors,  and 
mightily  she  liked  it.  It  is  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  nobodv  good.     So  absorbed  were  they 


68  JACK    KOVAL. 

in    their    charmer,    so    engrossed    was    she    in 
charmini^-.  that  Patty  and  Jack  were  so  com- 
jjletely  and  bhssfnlly  ignored  as  to  be  able  to 
coo  and  murmur  and  look  unutteralilc  things, 
and  the  course  of  true  love  ran  smooth  and 
sweet  as  a  Filipino  manifesto  until  Pet  saw  fit 
to  ransack  his  wife's  bureau  one  evening  when 
she  was  at  the  Luneta  and  he  supposedly  still 
at  Ilo  Ilo.  and  therein  he  found  a  note  of  an- 
other   kind — several    notes — that    jarred    like 
sweet  bells  jangled,  and  that  night  there  was  a 
row.     No  more  did  the  ladies  drive  alone.    Pet 
sat  scowling  on  the  front  seat  and  borbade  the 
diminutive  cochcro  to  rein  up  anywhere.    Two 
or  three  young  regulars  experienced  no  little 
chagrin,  and  thirty  or  more  no  no  end  of  mis- 
chievous delight,  over  the  sudden  break  in  those 
blissful    relations.     But   Jack    Royal    was   too 
deeply,  honestly,  squarely  in  love  to  be  laughed 
at,  and  the  only  fellow  who  tried  it  was  a  young 
"tough"     who    had    got    into    the    regiment 
through  pi^litical  "pull"  and  went  out  of  it  with 
an  official  "push"  that  never  let  up  till  he  was 
safe  across  the  sea.     But  that  was  because  of 
a  case  of  "white  feather"  that  blackened  his 
record — of  "cold  feet"  that  de\-eloped  in  the 


JACK    ROYAL.  69 

heat  of  battle — not  solely  because  of  the  knock 
out  he  got  at  the  hands  of  Jack  Royal,  whose 
heart  was  sore  as  the  offender's  head,  and 
sore-hearted  men  are  hard  hitters. 

Then  as  there  were  hours  when  Pet  li^d  to 
be  about  his  business  and  madanie  persisted  in 
receiving  visitors,  the  move  to  Santa  Ana  fol- 
lowed. Once  there  Pet  thought  his  birdling 
safe  from  followers.  He  took  the  carriage 
e\ery  morning  himself  to  town  and  drove  back 
only  toward  dusk.  He  imagined  that  thereby 
he  prevented  his  wife  from  coming  into  Ma- 
nila, and  that  the  Filipinos  would  as  effectively 
prevent  the  young  officers  from  going  to  Santa 
Ana.  But  Pet  wasn't  as  bright  as  his  wife  by 
any  means.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent  the 
young  fellows'  sending  carriages  out  for  her, 
nothing  to  prevent  her  driving  in  to  shop  on 
the  Escolta,  nothing  to  prevent  their  joining 
her  there  and  as  Manila  afforded  no  such  re- 
sort as  Delmonico's  or  The  Wellington — no 
cool  retreat  where  ices  and  chocolate  could  be 
served,  there  might  have  been  nothing  to  pre- 
vent madame's  accepting  their  invitation  to 
drive  to  barracks  and  partake  of  champagne 
and  confectionerv  at  the  officers'  club.     There 


/O  JACK    ROVAL. 

would  have  been  nothing  but  for  Patty.  Patty 
put  her  little  foot  down  summarily  on  the 
scheme.  She  would  drive  with  her  stepmother 
"open  and  aboveboard"  to  and  along-  the 
Escolta  and  he  rewarded  by  a  few  brief  words 
on  the  Calle  Nozaleda  with  her  watrliful  Jack, 
but  the  pure  heart  of  the  American  girl  needed 
no  prompting  where  to  draw  the  line.  Her 
lovely  blue  eyes,  soft,  pleading  and  wistful  at 
most  times,  flashed  with  unwonted  fire  as  they 
gazed  straight  into  the  black  orbs  of  the  ma- 
tron. "You  know  you  cannot  go  there  with- 
out me,"  said  she,  "and  with  me  you  shall  not." 
And  this  was  in  part  the  situation  when  old 
Pet  found  it  imperatively  necessary  to  go  over 
to  Hong  Kong  the  third  week  in  January. 
Now  he  was  in  a  quandary.  To  be  on  the  safe 
side  he  much  desired  to  take  madame  and 
Patty  with  him,  but  that  would  cost  a  heap  of 
money,  and  Pet  was  close  as  a  clam.  He  went 
to  the  agents  of  the  Esmeralda  and  "boned" 
them  for  a  "complimentary"  for  the  ladies,  but 
the  agents  were  obtuse  and  couldn't  see  it.  He 
tackled  that  jovial  mariner,  Taylor,  her  com- 
mander, but  Taylor  had  long  since  "sized  up" 
Pet.  and  his  former  "Any  time  the  ladies  want 


JACK    ROYAL.  Jl 

to  run  over  to  Hong  Kong  let  me  know"  had 
meant  any  time  they  wanted  to  go  w^ithout 
Pet.  Pet  would  have  been  glad  to  invoke  the 
guardianship  of  certain  charming  English  resi- 
dents of  Santa  Ana.  but  the  men  had  .given 
him  the  cold  shoulder  almost  from  the  start, 
anil  women,  though  their  hearts  went  out  to 
Patty  and  would  have  found  welcome  for  her. 
had.,  with  unerring  instinct,  taken  madame's 
measure  and  never  seemed  to  see  her.  As  for 
calling,  none  of  their  little  number  ever  con- 
templated such  a  thing  for  a  minute. 

But  there  were  impressionable  gallants  in 
and  about  Santa  Ana  as  well  as  across  the  lines 
in  and  about  Manila,  and  madame's  rolling 
orbs  had  speedily  lured  certain  field  and  staff 
officers  of  the  Filipino  army — young  gentle- 
men of  fair  fortune  and  European  education, 
several  of  whom  had  served  in  the  army  of 
Spain  and  two,  at  least,  who  had  been,  taught 
tlie  rudiments  of  the  art  of  war  in  Paris  and 
Madrid.  Of  these  was  Sandoval,  swarthy, 
Imt  suave,  aide-de-camp  to  General  Ricarte, 
whose  headquarters  were  in  the  big  stone  build- 
ing backing  on  the  river  directly  across  the 
Plaza    from   the   '>.  I'n.lrav^   r^f   the   retreat   old 


7-  JACK    KOVAL. 

Pettibone  had  cliosen  fur  his  birtlHnofs.  Need- 
ing no  other  "hid"  than  that  which  he  read  in 
madame's  bold,  black  eyes,  the  little  General, 
accompanied  by  two  of  his  staff,  with  Sand- 
oval as  interpreter,  called  in  person  to  pay  his 
respects  and  before  the  week  was  ont  all  were 
frequent  visitors  when  Pet  wasn't  in.  To 
madame,  who  spoke  a  little  Spanish  and  was 
desirous  of  learning  more,  the  General  and  his 
senior  staff  officer  paid  assiduous  court.  But 
Sandoval  spoke  English,  like  a  grandee,  to  be 
sure,  and  all  the  more  stately  and  sonorous  did 
he  make  it,  and  Sandoval  was  fascinated  from 
the  start  by  those  liquid  blue  eyes,  by  the  fair 
face  and  pearly  teeth  of  pretty  Patty  Petti- 
bone. It  was  a  clear  case  of  physical  charm, 
for  Patty,  loving  and  loyal,  had  no  thought 
for  any  man  on  earth  but  her  bonny  boy  in  the 
uniform  of  the  First  Washington,  and  never  a 
word  would  she  vouchsafe  to  Sandoval  if  she 
could  possibly  help  it.  thereby  only  spurring 
him  to  more  assiduous  and  demonstrative  de- 
votion and.  presently,  to  investigation  as  to  this 
utter  indifference  to  fascinations  he  had  never 
hitherto  exerted  in  vain.  Among  the  damsels 
of  Spain,  the  iMestizas  of  Manila,  the  daugh- 


JACK    KOVAL.  7^^ 

ters  of  the  "liigli  class"  and  educated  natives, 
Sandt)val  had  hornc  for  three  years  a  record 
as  a  lady  killer.  He  raged  in  his  semi-savage 
little  heart  to  find  all  his  charms  wasted,  his 
advances  si)urned,  his  Howery  compliments 
laughed  at.  There  could  be  only  one  explana- 
tion, said  he — another — a  previous  attachment. 
Then  who  was  the  man  ? 

It  wasn't  hard  to  find  out.  Half  a  mile 
west  from  Ricarte's  headquarters  meandered 
the  Tripa  de  Gallina — a  pulsating  estuary  of 
the  Pasig  that  rose  and  fell  with  the  tide,  its 
median  line  the  intangible  barrier  betwixt  the 
narrow  limits  accorded  the  Yankee  intruders 
and  the  broad  lands  of  the  Insurgents.  There, 
bearing  the  main  highway  from  the  interior 
into  Manila,  stood  the  massive  stone  bridge 
known  as  the  Puente  de  Concordia.  On  the 
Santa  Ana  side,  close  to  the  stream,  stood  the 
guard-house  filled  with  swarthy  little  soldiers 
in  broad-brimmed  straw  hats  and  pale  l)lue 
uniforms,  two  sentries  ever  pacing  at  the 
bridge,  the  arms  of  the  guard  stacked  at  the 
roadside.  Beyond  the  bridge,  a  yard  perhaps 
from  the  abutment,  stnnle  a  stalwart  ^'ankoc. 
Springfield    on    shoulder,    and    two    hundred 


74  JACK    ROYAL, 

paces  beyond  him  tliere  towered  Block  House 
II,  crammed  with  bliie-shirted  boys  from  the 
Pacific  slope  of  the  far-away  States,  for  there 
was  stationed  the  advance  guard  of  the  First 
Brigade,  First  Division  of  the  Eighth  Army 
Corps,  a  brigade  made  up  entirely,  barring  the 
commander  and  his  staff,  of  gallant  volunteers 
from  California,  Idaho  and  Washington. 
Against  that  block  house,  in  redoubts  along 
the  river  bank  Ricarte  had  trained  his  Krupp 
guns.  Against  the  block  house  and  the  blue 
jjicket  posts  along  that  crooked  stream  the  In- 
surgents had  thrown  up  earthworks  here,  there 
and  everywhere  along  the  front.  Over  that 
bridge  and  into  the  Insurgent  lines  no  more 
was  Yankee  foot  permitted.  Levelled  bayo- 
nets and  harsh  ''No  quicrc  Americanos"  turned 
back  every  would-be  explorer.  Across  that 
bridge,  on  the  contrary,  anywhere,  everywhere 
they  cared  to  go  within  the  Yankee  lines,  unlet, 
unhindered,  even  honored  by  saluting  sentries 
and  welcomed  by  officers  and  men,  wandered 
at  their  own  sweet  will  the  soldiers  of  Aguin- 
aldo.  Such  were  the  orders  issued  by  the  de- 
partment commander;  such  were  his  instruc- 
tions  from  home.     It  made  manv  a  Yankee 


JACK    ROYAL.  75 

soldier  shake  his  head,  Init  it  couhhi't  shake 
his  sense  of  subordination.  "If  that's  what 
Uncle  Sam  wants."  said  "Thinking-  Bayonets", 

"it  goes,  but me  if  I  can  see  the  sense  of 

it!" 

And  so  it  took  Sandoval  next  to  no  time  to 
hear  and  tlien  to  go  and  see  for  himself  that 
there  was  a  tall,  handsome,  dark-eyed,  dark- 
haired,  dashing  looking  first  lieutenant  quar- 
tered right  there  at  the  Archiepiscopal  palace 
across  the  Paco  bridge  who  was  always  on 
lookout  for  a  certain  carriage  when  it  came 
spinning  in  from  Santa  Ana,  as  well  as  on  the 
back  trip,  and  who  seemed  to  rejoice  in  being 
officer  of  the  guard  at  Block  House  ii.  It 
was  the  nearest  post  to  Santa  Ana  and  his 
inamorata.  And  Sandoval  went  so  far  as  to 
suggest  to  madame  that  he  would  be  glad  to 
drive  with  her  occasionally,  and  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  Lieutenant  Jack  Royal,  when  next 
the  carriage  came  bounding  acr<^ss  Concordia 
Bridge  one  sunshiny  afternoon  late  in  January, 
and  his  field  glasses  had  told  him  "she",  as 
usual,  was  on  the  back  seat,  the  sentries  at  both 
ends  of  the  bridge.  Tagal  and  Yankee,  pre- 
sented arms,  and  then  that  "queer  thing  hap- 


76  JACK    ROYAL. 

pened"  that  the  General's  aide-de-camp  started 
to  tell  about  in  the  hearing  of  old  Pet  him- 
self. Royal  had  gone  leaping  down  the 
wooden  stairs  within  and  into  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine without,  and  over  to  the  roadside  just  in 
time  to  meet  the  carriage  as  its  spirited  little 
ponies  were  pulled  up  at  the  post  Number  3, 
and  there  on  the  front  seat,  facing  the  ladies, 
beamed  a  dapper  little  Tagal  officer  in  uniform 
of  immaculate  white,  the  gold  stars  on  his 
shoulders  fresh  from  the  dainty  hands  of  the 
Filipino  maids  at  the  Convent  of  San  Pablo, 
the  broad-brimmed  straw  hat,  finer  in  texture 
than  the  famous  fabric  of  Panama,  circled  by 
its  snowy,  silken  ribbon  with  the  insignia  of  his 
regiment  embroidered  in  gold,  a  silken  ker- 
chief in  one  white  gloved  hand,  the  other 
raised  instantly  in  precise  salute  as  madame 
sententiously  spoke  the  words  of  introduction, 
emphasizing,  as  was  her  w^ont,  the  difference 
in  rank. 

"Captain  Sandoval,  permit  me  to  introduce 
Lieutenant  Royal,"  and  Jack,  sighting  warning 
in  his  sweetheart's  blue  eyes,  tiushed,  bowed 
after  the  American  fashion  and  half  extended 
his  long,  shapely  hand. 


JACK    ROYAL.  "J"] 

"It  ees  an  honor  I  have  seek  for  so  long." 
exclaimed  Sandoval,  hand  and  kerchief  on  his 
heart,  (and  showing  two  rows  of  unimpeach- 
able teeth).  "We — your  brothers  in  arms — 
your  allies,  desire  much  the  acquaintance-of  so 
distinguished  officers." 

"Yes."  answered  Jack,  grimly,  "those  bayo- 
nets across  the  bridge  yonder  look  like  it." 

"Ah."  and  the  square  little  shoulders 
shrugged,  "a  mere  temporary  order,  a  matter 
our  president  will  rectify  within  the  week  so 
soon  as  he  hears  from  my  General.  It  is  not, 
belief  me.  of  our  doing — " 

And  right  here  the  "queer  thing"  happened. 
Galloping  across  the  arched  bridge  full  speed 
came  another  native  officer,  lashing  his  excited 
pony  to  frantic  effort.  Within  fifty  yards  of  the 
block  house  he  recognized  the  carriage  and  in- 
stantly, settling  back  in  his  saddle,  began  to 
pull  with  all  his  little  might,  bringing  up  sput- 
tering and  splashing  in  the  mud  his  pony,  all 
a(|uiver.  and  handing  quickly  to  Sandoval  a 
sealed  and  folded  paper, — then,  wheeling 
about  antl.  without  waiting  for  reply,  setting 
spur  to  his  mount  and  dashing  back  toward 
Santa  Ana.   Roval  could  have  sworn  the  young 


78  JACK    ROYAL. 

Staff  ofticcr  went  a  shade  yellower.  The 
healthy  brown  of  his  skin  gave  place  to  a 
muddy  tint. 

"It  is  from  my  General.  You  will  pardon." 
he  murmured,  uplifting  his  eyes  in  appeal  to 
the  ladies,  as  he  broke  the  seal  and  tore  open 
the  page.  Patty's  eyes  signalled  "come  over 
here,"  and  Royal  quickly  stepped  back  of  the 
carriage  to  her  side.  Then  she  bent  as  though 
to  whisper,  and  at  that  instant  in  uncontroll- 
able excitement,  if  not  agitation,  young  Sand- 
oval sprang  iu>m  the  carriage. 

"I  am — recalled,"  he  said,  bowing  low  to 
both  ladies.     "I — " 

But  something  fell  with  a  heavy  plunk  in 
the  roadway.  The  glistening  white  sling  of 
his  sword  belt  had  caught  the  handle  of  the 
carriage  door.  The  sword,  in  accordance 
with  existing  conditions  had  been  left  at  Santa 
Ana,  for  it  was  only  by  unarmed  Filipinos  that 
the  lines  could  be  passed.  The  sudden  strain 
had  burst  the  belt  which  buckled  underneath 
the  white  sack  coat,  and  with  the  belt  fell  a 
holster  and  gleaming  revolver,  its  chambers 
crammed  with  cartridges,  also  a  rectangular 
poucli  of  Russia  leather.     With  sudden  swoop 


J  At.  K     K(  11  AL.  79 

the  Filipino  possessed  himself  of  the  latter. 
With  quick,  supple  bend,  Royal  pounced  on 
the  other.  A  cry.  half  suppressed,  came  from 
Patty's  lips.  Madame  herself  looked  startled. 
"Pray  do  not  wait.  Seiiora."  said  Sandoval, 
whose  self  possession  did  not  seem  to  leave 
him.  "Until  the  evening."  he  continued. 
Then,  kissing  his  hand,  and  bowing  elabor- 
ately, "I  count  the  hours.  Senorita,  Mis  labios 
van  cstar  frios."  he  added,  with  killing  glance 
at  Patty.  ".^/  corrco,  coclicro!"  he  shouted 
to  the  weazened  little  driver  in  top  hat  and 
boots.  Away  sped  the  team,  and  they  stood 
facing  each  other,  the  stalwart  son  of  the 
Pacific  slope,  reared  in  the  "glorious  climate  of 
California",  trained  mentally  and  physically  in 
a  great  university  and  soldiering  now  for  the 
honor  of  his  flag,  and  the  sinewy,  yet  diminu- 
tive product  of  the  tropics,  bred  in  luxury  and 
indulgence,  schooled  in  the  arts  and  languages 
of  the  Latin  race  and  serving  under  the 
standard  of  a  leader  almost  fanatically  loved. 
in  the  full  conviction  that  the  Tagal  was  alone 
fit  to  rule  the  Philippines.  The  smile  left  the 
face  of  Sandoval  as  he  looked  squarely  up  into 
•the   stern   eyes   of   the   officer   of   the   guard. 


8o  JACK    ROYAL. 

Ladies  were  no  longer  present;  besides,  he 
stood  unmasked,  self  convicted  of  a  violation 
of  the  compact.  To  the  Spaniard  as  to  his  apt 
pupil,  the  Filipino,  no  disgrace  attaches  either 
to  a  lie  or  breach  of  faith  except  that  of 
detection. 

Royal  was  the  first  to  speak.  "You  under- 
stand English,  Senor  Capitan."  said  he  coldly, 
"and  you  well  know  you  have  no  business  to 
wear  this  within  our  lines.  What's  more,  you 
know  you  couldn't  have  done  it  without  detec- 
tion had  you  not  come  in  a  carriage  with  ladies. 
Take  your  pistol.  I  have  no  orders  to  seize 
it.  Our  General  did  not  contemplate  the  pos- 
sibility of  hidden  weapons  among  officers  and 
gentlemen." 

Sandoval's  eyes  flashed  and  his  strong  white 
teeth  set  like  a  vise.  Already  he  had  heard 
and  seen  enough  to  assure  him  that  here  was 
a  favored  suitor,  therefore  a  hated  rival.  Butt 
foremost,  the  glistening  weapon,  only  half  con- 
cealed in  its  dainty  holster,  was  extended  to 
him.  Close  at  hand  paced  the  silent  sentry  on 
No.  3.  Over  at  the  block  house  stood  or 
sprawled  a  dozen  Washingtons,  curiously 
watching   the    scene.     The   cold,    almost   con- 


JACK    ROYAL.  8 1 

temptuous  tune  oi  the  tall  American  stung  the 
Tagal  to  the  quick.  Passionate,  hot-blooded, 
vengeful,  indulged  and  petted  of  women,  en- 
vied and  flattered  by  men,  he  had  been  bred  to 
domineer,  never  to  know  disdain.  All  the  fire 
of  his  race  flared  in  instant  rage. 

■'You  dare  insult  me!"  he  hissed,  with  a 
stamp  of  his  beautifully  booted  foot.  "Keep 
that  pistol,  for  you  have  none  to  match  it,  you 
Americans.  But  I  bring  one  again  and  I 
challenge  you  to  meet  me — yonder — at  the 
Tripa — Ha  ! — " 

His  furious  harangue  broke  ofi  short.  Over 
toward  the  distant  gray  walls  of  Santa  Ana, 
quick-  and  stirring,  a  Filipino  bugle  broke  the 
silence  of  the  afternoon.  Almost  instantly 
there  came  thrilling  answer  from  the  guard- 
house across  the  stream,  and  the  swarthy  little 
brown  soldiers  were  seen  springing  to  their 
stacked  arms.  Clutching  his  leather  pouch 
and  withriut  another  word.  Sandoval  turned 
and  ran  like  a  deer  for  the  bridge.  "Here! 
Take  your  popgun."  shouted  Royal,  hurling 
the  bolstered  pistol  after  him.  It  flew  half  a 
dozen  paces  bevcnd  tin-  -«\\ift  white  runner  be- 


82  JACK    ROYAL. 

fore  it  plowed  the  niiul,  but  he  never  stopped 
nor  stooped. 

''Form  your  guard  there,  sergeant !"  ordered 
Royal,  drawing  his  sword  and  striding  for- 
ward t(nvard  the  block  house.  "There's  no 
telling  what  may  be  up." 

Aloft  in  the  upper  story  the  telegraph  in- 
strument was  madly  clicking.  Far  over  the 
rice  fields  to  the  southwest  little  parties  of  na- 
tive soldiers  could  be  seen  running  for  the  bam- 
boo patches  and  nipa  "shacks"  scattered  along 
the  outer  bank  of  the  Tripa,  every  one  an  out- 
post of  Pio  del  Pilar.  Over  at  Block  House 
12  and  back  of  Battery  Knoll,  south  of  the 
Paco  suburb,  the  Americans  could  be  seen 
scrambling  to  the  highest  reachable  point  and 
staring  out  toward  Santa  Ana  in  search  of  ex- 
planation of  the  excitement.  But  Royal 
promptly  got  his  guard  into  ranks,  sent  a  cor- 
poral, with  half  a  dozen  men  in  palpable  sup- 
port of  his  sentries  on  the  road,  and  then 
awaited  developments. 

They  quickly  came.  A  soldier  sprang  from 
the  dark  interior  of  the  block  house  with  a 
paper  fluttering  in  his  hand.  Royal  seized  the 
despatch  and  read : 


JACK    ROVAL.  83 

"Bugles  all  over  town  and  suburbs  sound- 
ing  'To    Arms'.     All    commands    forming   at 
their     barracks.      Alarm     started     along    the 
Escolta  in  Binondo.     Cause  not  ascertained. 
(Signed)      ''Davis, 

Operator." 

"Started  along  the  Escolta  in  Binondo!" 
said  Royal  to  himself,  "and  yet  those  beggars 
out  yonder  knew  it  before  we  did,  and  we  have 
the  wire.  Keep  the  men  in  ranks  for  the  pres- 
ent," he  ordered,  then  quickly  returned  to  the 
highway  and  gazed  townward. 

Hurrying  toward  him  with  their  odd, 
shuffling  gait,  in  little  parties  of  three  or  four, 
some  in  their  uniforms,  some  in  native  white, 
came  dozens  of  the  little  brown  soldiers,  the 
rearmost  running  in  their  haste  to  join  their 
regiments  out  at  Santa  Ana.  And  then,  be- 
yond them,  lashing  his  fiery  team  of  pony  stal- 
lions, appeared  the  diminutive  coclicro,  em- 
ployed and  costumed  by  Messrs.  Parke.  Kitson 
&  Company,  driving  like  mad  as  though  to 
escape  from  the  wrath  to  come.  He  strove 
not  to  see  Royal's  signal  to  stop,  but  the  latter 


84  JACK    KOVAL. 

would  not  he  denied.  Madame  was  found  on 
the  verge  of  hysterics,  Patty,  pale  but  silent. 

"Oh,  what  arc  we  to  do?"  moaned  the  ma- 
tron, wringing  her  hands.  "It  is  dreadful  that 
this  should  happen  and  Mr.  Pettibone  away !" 

"But  nothing'  of  any  consequence  has  hap- 
pened, Mrs.  Pettibone,"  said  Royal,  as  he 
stepped  to  Patty's  side  and  possessed  himself 
of  a  little  hand  that  hung  over  the  edge  of  the 
low  victoria.  "The  troops  form  as  a  matter 
of  course,  but  I  assure  you  there  is  no  trouble 
in  store  for  you.  Everything  will  be  quiet 
presently  and  you  will  have  forgotten  it  by 
the  time  Mr.  Pettibone  returns.  To-morrow, 
is  it?" 

"To-morrow  probably;  Monday  at  latest," 
answered  Patty,  as  the  elder  lady  seemed  al- 
ready to  have  forgotten  the  existence  of  her 
spouse.  Then  the  girl's  voice  sank  to  a  whis- 
per, and  her  eyes  filled.  "O  Jack,  I  wish — I 
wish  I  could  think  there  was  no  trouble  for 
him — for  father.  There's  something  I  must 
tell  you,  but  I  can't  now,''  and  she  glanced 
significantly  at  the  moaning,  frightened  wo- 
man by  her  side. 

"To-morrow,    then    Til    watch    for   vou    at 


JACK    ROVAL.  85 

Paco."  answered  Royal,  pressiiig^  her  liand. 
And  then  the  carriage  darted  on :  shut  up  the 
incHne  and  over  the  l)ridge  and  was  lost  to 
sight  beyond  the  hurrying  groups  of  Filipino 
soldiery.  Royal,  gazing  after  it,  roused  from 
his  revery  at  the  voice  of  the  corporal  of  the 
guard  who  stood  with  Sandoval's  pistol  in  his 
hand.  "What  shall  I  do  with  this,  sir?"  was 
the  question.  "Mechanically  Royal  took  and 
thrust  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  field  uniform  just 
as  the  clatter  of  hoofs  announced  the  coming 
of  a  mounted  party:  and  turning,  he  hastened 
to  receive  the  brigade  commander. 

"Who  were  the  ladies?"  inquired  that  dig- 
nitary, leisurely  dismounting.  "Vou  need  not 
kee])  your  men  in  ranks.  Mr.  R(^yal.  It  was 
a  mere  flurry  in  town." 

"Mr.  Pettibonc's  wife — and  daughter,  sir. 
Dismiss  the  guard,  sergeant!"  answered  Royal. 
"Ricarte's  men  over  yonder  were  greatly  ex- 
cited. General,  and  what's  queer  is  that  they 
got  wind  of  the  trouble  before  we  did." 

"There  was  no  trouble  worth  mentioning." 
was  the  answer.  "But  when  there  is  they  can 
learn  it  (|uick  enough.  San  Juan  del  Monte 
and  San  Felijic  Xeri  across  the  I\'isig  yonder 


86  JACK    ROYAL. 

signal   direct  to   Santa  Ana  church  tower  in 
front  of  yon.     Well,  who's  Pettibone?" 

So  the  brigadier  did  not  know  Pettibone  on 
Saturday,  January  28th,  yet  here  he  was  on 
Monday  evening,  January  30th,  entertaining 
him  at  dinner,  and  Bob  Bruce  had  palpably  re- 
fused to  sit  at  meat  with  the  party  because 
Pettibone  was  present.  It  was  an  evening  of 
suppressed  excitement  anyhow.  Just  at  six 
the  division  commander  had  come  riding  in 
with  two  of  his  staff,  and  in  brief  conference 
with  his  senior  brigadier  announced  that  a 
cable  from  Washington  warned  General  Otis 
to  look  out  for  mischief,  the  Insurgents  were 
planning  to  attack  before  the  reinforcements 
shipped  in  late  December  and  early  January 
could  possibly  arrive.  Orders  were  issued  for 
all  troops  to  breakfast  at  4:45  a.m.  and  form 
under  arms  at  5:15.  The  force  at  the  front  was 
to  be  strengthened  forthwith,  and  all  the  nec- 
essary instructions  had  been  reduced  to  writing 
and  the  type-written  copies  signed  and  had  just 
been  sent  out  when  Mr.  Pettibone' s  card  was 
handed  in  with  a  request  for  an  interview  with 
the  brigadier.  They  were  still  in  conversation, 
for  Pettibone  had  much  to  say,  when  dinner 


JACK     Kn\AL.  87 

^vas  announced  and  Pet  was  induced  to  stay. 
That  night,  under  the  stars  as  they  rode  the 
hnes.  a  favorite  staff  officer  turned  on  his  chief 
with  the  abrupt  question  "General,  do  you 
know  anything  about  ^[r.  Pettibone?" 

"Nothing  but  what  he  told  me.     Why?" 

"P>ecause — he  is  persona  iion  grata  at  De- 
p:iriment  Headquarters,  and  the  provost  mar- 
shal disapproves  of  hini.  I  tried  to  catch  your 
eye.  sir.  when  you  invited  him  to  dinner." 

"He  brought  me  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  Colonel  Burke  at  Ilo  Ilo  and  all  he  wanted 
was  a  pass  through  our  lines  at  Concordia 
Bridge  in  case  he  was  detained  in  town  late  at 
night.  I  sent  him  to  Division  Headquarters. 
He  had  much  to  tell — seems  to  have  traveled 
and  seen  a  good  deal." 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't  give  him  the  pass,  sir. 
That  man's  capable  of  selling  information  to 
the  enemy." 

"Is  he?"  laughed  the  general.  "Well,  I 
dtnibt  if  he'd  find  a  market.  They  have  far 
more  information  than  he,  and  can  get  all  they 
need  without  paying  for  it." 

Three  days  passed  without  further  tidings  of 
Pettibone  at  l)rigade  headcjuarters  and,   what 


88  JACK    ROYAL. 

was  worse,  of  i)retty  Patty  along  the  Xozalecla, 
and  Jack  Royal  was  in  a  fidget — three  days 
and  nights  in  which  the  strain  of  the  sitnation 
at  the  front  became  intense.  The  Pettibone 
carriage  had  driven  in  each  morning  and  back 
late  each  afternoon,  unhindered  by  either 
guard,  its  sole  and  sallow  occupant  scowling 
malignantly  at  sight  of  Royal  who  was  always 
on  watch.  But  the  carriage  sent  out.  presum- 
ably, by  madame's  admirers  infra  miiros.  to  the 
dismay  of  those  young  gallants  and  the  mis- 
chievous delight  of  their  comrades,  never  re- 
turned. There  was  evidently  a  restraining 
hand  in  Santa  Ana. 

It  was  Friday  morning  when  Royal  marched 
on  again  as  officer  of  the  guard  at  Block  House 
II,  having  "swapped"  tours  with  a  comrade 
in  order  to  get  there  ahead  of  his  time.  .\nd  the 
first  thing  he  did  after  distributing  his  sentries 
was  to  swing  out  from  the  Santa  Ana  front, 
nailing  its  upper  edge  to  the  sill  of  the  rifle 
slit,  a  big  tal)le  cloth  that  he  had  unscrupu- 
lously borrowed  from  the  mess  kit,  and  Johnny 
Filipino  across  the  stream  looked,  marveled, 
gesticulated  anrl  chattered,  then  sent  hack  to 
headquarters  for  staff  officers  who  came  scam- 


JACK    ROVAL.  89 

periiig  mit  on  their  mettlesouK'  ponies  to  see 
what  manner  of  sig^nal  this  was  the  Yankees 
were  setting-,  and  with  them  came  Sandoval, 
who  £^az:ed,  askeil  just  one  (|uestion  of  the 
Tag-al  otliccr  at  tlie  bridge,  got  the  reply  "El 
Tcniciitc  Royal",  and  galloped  back  to  Santa 
Ana  as  hard  as  he  could  go.  Whatever  his 
object  it  in  no  wise  interfered  with  Royal's 
plan,  for  barely  three  hours  later  there  came 
spinning  across  the  bridge  a  carriage,  recog- 
nized at  once  as  that  of  Mr.  Maclean,  a  prom- 
inent English  resident  of  Santa  Ana  and  lead- 
ing business  man  of  Manila,  and  pretty,  smil- 
ing, dainty  little  Mrs.  Maclean  was  seated 
therein,  two  of  her  children  with  her.  To 
Jack's  suqirise  and  joy  a  corporal  came  hurry- 
ing to  him  with  a  note.  Royal  raised  his  hat 
and  bowed  his  thanks,  then  tore  open  the  ])rc- 
cious  missive. 

"Jack,  Jack,"  it  said,  "thank  God  for  sight 
of  your  signal.  I  have  been  almost  mad  with 
anxiety.  Father  and  Mrs.  Pettibone.  too, 
seem  to  have  fallen  utterly  into  the  hands  of 
those  Insurgent  officers.  Sonicthiiii^  is  being 
plotted.  I  don't  know  wliat.  Pio  del  Pilar 
with   other  Cienerals  .spent   twenty-four  hours 


90  JACK    ROYAL. 

here.  Father  was  with  them  at  night  and  has 
packed  up  his  papers  and  bidden  us  to  be  ready 
to  move  at  a  moment's  notice.  He  is  fearfully 
nervous  about  something  and  is  in  some  grave 
complication,  though  I  hardly  know  what. 

But,  this  you  must  know^  Captain  Sand- 
oval is  here  morn,  noon  and  night.  He  seized 
the  carriage  that  used  to  come  out  for  mother 
and  he  insists  hour  after  hour  on  our  leaving 
here  and  moving  to  his  home,  which  is  near 
General  Montenegro's  at  Taytay  beyond  Pasig. 
Father  would  have  gone  before  this,  but  for  a 
large  sum  of  money  due  him  that  he  is  striv- 
ing to  collect  in  the  city.  It  is  all  that  pre- 
vents our  leaving,  and  Jack.  I  dread  it  more 
than  words  can  tell.  I  dread  this  little  demon 
Sandoval,  and  oh,  Jack,  you  must  be  on  your 
guard  agin  St  him.  He  is  capable  of  anything 
and  he  terrifies  me  by  his  threats.  Promise 
me  not  to  go  near  that  bridge  to-night.  Jack 
— promise  me,  and  if  you  can  do  anything  to 
help  my  poor  old  father  do,  Jack.  He  was 
good  and  loving  to  me  always  until  this  other 
marriage.  There  is  only  one  way  to  get  this 
to  you.  I  am  going  to  the  English  lady  you 
have  seen  driving  by  so  often,  to  implore  her 


JACK    ROYAL.  9 1 

help.     The  Filipinos  dare  not  stop  or  search 

her  carriage. 

Fondly,  anxiously. 

"Patty." 

"The  lady  said  she'd  stop  for  an  answer  on 
the  way  back,  sir,"  said  the  corporal.  But  be- 
fore that  answer  could  be  written  came  the 
General  to  potter  all  about  the  premises  for  a 
whole  hour,  "spiering"  over  the  rice  fields  with 
his  glasses,  studying  the  movements  of  the  In- 
surgents about  their  earthworks  and  redoubts, 
asking  countless  questions  and  finally  taking 
Jack  another  hour's  tramp  up  and  down  the 
banks  of  the  Tripa.  It  was  two  o'clock  when 
he  remounted  and  rode  away,  and  there  was 
the  Maclean  carriage  waiting.  Jack  could 
only  pencil  a  few  hurried  lines,  thank  the 
gentle,  sympathetic  little  woman  with  all  his 
heart  and  falter  a  bungling  plea  that  she  should 
befriend  his  endangered  sweetheart,  and  then 
out  came  a  messenger  on  the  jump  with  this 
despatch : 

''Commanding  Officer  Block  House  1 1  : 

Post  sentries  to  guard  every  possible  cross- 
ing of  streams  on  your  front  and  prevent  the 


92  JACK    ROVAL. 

return  to  Santa  Ana  of  Jonas  Pettibone,  Amer- 
ican citizen.  Arrest  him  wherever  found 
within  our  Hues.  Copy  sent  brigade  com- 
mander.    Acknowledge  receipt. 

(Signed)      "Cabell  A.  A.  G."' 

Tliat  was  a  busy  afternoon  along  the  Tripa, 
but  nightfall  came  without  a  sign  of  the  desired 
Jonas.  Two  Generals  and  at  least  twenty  offi- 
cers of  various  grades  were  out  inquiring  for 
him  at  different  times.  Everybody  knew  he 
had  driven  into  town  that  morning,  but  no- 
body seemed  to  know  what  had  since  become  of 
him.  His  carriage  and  coachman  had  easily 
been  found  by  the  stalwart  amateur  police  from 
the  Thirteenth  ^Minnesota,  but  Jonas  had  some- 
how got  wind  of  the  sudden  mo\-e  to  nab  him 
and  had  vanished.  Filipino.  Chinese  and 
Spanish  merchants  with  whom  he  was  known 
to  have  had  dealings  vowed  they  knew  nothing 
of  his  whereabouts,  but  the  chief  of  police,  act- 
ing under  information  from  the  martial  col- 
lector of  customs,  "ran  in"  six  or  eight  im- 
porters and  by  nightfall  everybody  seemed  to 
know  it  was  another  case  of  opium  smuggling, 
all  planned  and  carried  out  by  the  astute  Jonas. 


JACK    KOVAL.  93 

Moreover,  there  was  bribery  and  o  •rruption  of 
minor  officials  proved  against  bim.  and  in- 
timate relations  with  Insurgent  officials  more 
than  suspected.  "It  was  these  latter,"  said  the 
provost  martial's  people,  "who  now  had  him 
in  hiding,  the  deuce  knows  where." 

For  three  nights  the  American  sentries  on 
the  road  at  the  west  end  of  Concordia  Bridge 
had  been  subjected  to  all  manner  of  annoyance 
and  insult,   but  this   Friday  night   seemed  to 
"cap  the  climax."     Taps  had  hardly  sounded 
back  in  Paco  when,  officers  and  soldiers  both, 
the    little   brown   men   came    swarming    over 
toward  the  American  side,  whetting  their  keen 
boles  on  the    stone    parapet    and    daring  and 
taunting  the  sentries  to  fight.     Loyal  to  their 
orders,  the  big  Washingtons  laughed  at  their 
jninv  tormentors,  which  only  made  them  the 
madtler.  and    toward    eleven    o'clock    they  be- 
came so  demonstrative  that  Private  Stone  sent 
forth  a  stentorian  shuut  for  the  corporal,  and 
with  that  long-legged  non-com  came  running 
the  tall  officer  of  the  guard,  followed  panting 
by  a  gray-haired,  grizzled  little  Idaho  major, 
the   field  officer  of  the  day.     Instantly   there 
was  rush  and  scurry  back  across  the  bridge  on 


94  JACK    ROYAL. 

part  of  the  Filipinos,  and  in  the  dim  Hght  of 
the  cloudy  moon  their  guard  could  be  seen 
springing  into  ranks  and  taking  arms  while 
two  or  three  officers  leaped  into  saddle.  Be- 
fore Stone  could  report  the  cause  of  his  signal, 
faint,  yet  clear  and  distinct,  away  off  to  the 
left  toward  the  point  of  Pandacan  Island  a 
rifle  shot  rang  out  on  the  night,  close  followed 
by  another,  and  at  the  sound,  whipping  and 
spurring  their  little  steeds,  away  scurried  the 
Filipino  officers  in  tlie  direction  of  the  shot 
and  sped  out  of  sight  behind  the  stone  walls 
of  the  Norwegian  consul's  residence  across  the 
stream.  Away  streaked  dim,  ghostly,  pale- 
blue  shadows  skimming  across  the  flats  toward 
the  river  and,  fired  by  the  sight,  straddling  his 
pony,  the  little  Idaho  major  spurred  for  the 
bridge  at  Block  House  lo. 

It  was  midnight  before  the  eager  watchers 
at  the  center  learned  the  cause  of  this  alarm. 
A  boat  had  crossed  tlie  Pasig  just  in  front  of 
Pandacan  Point  and  landed  two  men  beyond 
the  Concordia.  Jeering  laugh  and  vulgar 
taunt  were  the  reply  to  the  picket's  challenge. 
A  pistol  flashed  and  cracked,  answered  in- 
stantly by  the  rifle  of  the  lone  Californian  who 


JACK     ROYAL.  95 

had  just  time  to  reload  and  tire  once  more  be- 
fore the  figures  shot  out  of  sight  behind  the 
bamboo,  and  a  shrill,  mocking  voice  shouted 
the  (|uery 

■■\\'a-at  you  Vankoes  gif  for  Pettibone 
now?" 

There  was  no  missive  from  Patty  to  glad- 
den Jack  Royal's  heart  before  he  turned  over 
the  outpost  to  his  successor  Saturday  morning. 
Instead,  a  grave-faced  gentleman  stepped  from 
his  carriage  about  eight  o'clock.  *'My  name 
is  Maclean."  said  he.  briefly,  '"and  my  wife 
bade  me  stop  to  say  to  you  that  she  had  tried 
to  see  Miss  Pettibone  this  morning,  but  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Pettibone  declared  she  was  too  ill  to 
receive  anybody,  yet  my  wife  saw  her  at  an 
upi)er  window  signalling  to  her  and  looking 
well  as  ever.     She  will  try  again  later." 

But  trials  were  vain.  No  word  came  from 
Santa  Ana  through  the  livelong  day;  no  sign 
till  late  at  night,  and  then  the  expected  storm 
broke  in  fury  along  the  northward  front. 
Taunt,  insult  and  abuse  having  failed  to  pro- 
voke the  Yankee  to  heg'm  the  fight,  the  Tagals 
in  desperation  stealthily  posted  their  firing 
lines  to  sweep  the  field  and  sent  armed  ])arties 


<)6  JACK    KOVAL. 

to  compel  the  shot  of  the  American  sentry  in 
front  of  Samta  Mesa. 

When  Sunday  morning  dawned  on  Block 
House  1 1  the  battle  was  in  full  blast  and  there 
was  wild  excitement  beyond  the  lines  at  Santa 
Ana.  Confident  that  the  patient  sufferance 
and  self  restraint  of  the  Americans  meant  that 
they  stood  in  terror  of  the  Tagal,  the  little 
brown  men  had  rushed  impetuously  to  the  at- 
tack toward  three  o'clock,  but  the  sun  rose  up- 
on a  baffled  force  and  a  bk^ody  field.  The 
Americans  had  not  yielded  an  inch.  What 
was  worse,  the  gathering  light  had  made  it  pos- 
sible for  them  to  use  their  field  guns,  and  now 
Dyer  and  Scott,  with  their  beautiful,  long 
breech  loaders  at  Battery  Knoll,  and  Haw- 
thorne with  his  Hotchkiss  "barkers,"  close  to 
Block  House  ii,  were  sending  their  shells 
shrieking  at  the  Insurgent  works,  their  shrap- 
nel bursting  into  deadly  storm  of  lead  that 
swept  the  parapets  and  silenced  the  bellowing 
Krupps.  Through  the  upper  stories  of  the 
houses  in  Santa  Ana,  built  of  frail  bamboo, 
shell  and  lattice,  the  bullets  came  whizzing 
every  moment,  and  the  inhabitants,  English, 
natives,  and  that  one  American  household,  had 


JACK    ROYAL.  97 

taken  refuge  on  the  groun«l  floors  where,  be- 
liind  solid  stone  walls,  they  were  safe. 

Safe  from  flying  lead,  that  is,  but  not  from 
flying  foe.  From  the  moment  of  his  arrival 
late  that  Friday  night  Jonas  Pettibone  had  been 
in  terror.  Young  Sandoval,  he  who  had  so 
eagerly  urged  that  the  family  should  take 
refuge  at  his  home  at  Taytay,  where  they  could 
be  under  guard  of  his  retainers  and  far  from 
the  pi^ssibility  of  English  interference,  now 
could  not  leave  his  post  of  duty  to  escort  them, 
and  in  his  jealous  passion,  would  not  let  them 
go  without  him.  Every  hour  or  so  all  Satur- 
ilay  he  had  managed  to  dart  in  to  ask  for 
Pattv,  pleading  to  see  her.  l)ut  the  girl  had  shut 
herself  in  her  room  and  would  not  come  down. 
Temporizing  with  Pettibone.  he  promised  to 
convey  him  Sunday  beyond  all  possibility  of 
capture,  but  well  he  knew  that  before  midnight. 
in  all  likelihood,  the  attack  would  begin.  Not 
for  an  instant  did  he  doubt  that,  when  once 
the  assault  was  ordered,  he  and  his  heroic  com- 
jiatriuts,  whirling  the  coward  Yankee  before 
them  into  the  sea.  would  go  careering  into 
Manila,  masters  of  the  great  city.  Then  he 
c<»uld  return  at  will  to  Santa  .\na  and  dictate 


98  JACK    ROVAL. 

terms  to  Pettibone — terms  that  included  Patty 
in  the  spoils  of  war. 

But  Sunday  morning  had  come  with  the 
''coward  foe"  unshaken,  and  now  the  dis- 
heartened battalions  of  Ricarte  were  drifting 
back  from  the  banks  of  the  Trii)a  to  the  shelter 
of  the  intrenchments  and  the  stone-walled  en- 
closures of  Santa  Ana.  Now  the  shrapnel  be- 
gan to  burst  in  mid  air  in  front  of  his  redoubts 
and  spatter  death  throughout  his  lines.  Xow 
the  huts  and  the  houses,  the  great  churchyard 
and  the  roomy  convent  began  to  fill  up  with 
dusky  wounded,  and  stragglers  and  skulkers 
came  huddling  back  into  the  Plaza.  In  gal- 
lant effort,  Sandoval  and  his  comrade  officers 
rode,  shouting  and  sword-waving  among  them, 
and  drove  all  uninjured  soldiers  into  ranks 
again.  And  at  longer  range  now  the  fight  was 
renewed,  and  Sandoval  took  heart.  The 
Americans  had  not  given  way.  to  be  sure.  It 
w^as  a  drawn  battle  iov  the  time  being — but, 
just  so  soon  as  reinforced  by  Pio  del  Pilar, 
Ricarte  could  order  another  assault  and  with 
overwhelming'  numbers  sweep  the  opposite 
bank.  Meantime  the  American  dare  not 
strike.       \^iinglorious1y.     therefore,    he    rode 


JACK    ROYAL.  99 

back  to  the  Pettibone  gate  and.  tliished  with 
battle  and  the  consciousness  of  personal  valor, 
appeared  before  them.  Pet  and  his  hysterical 
spouse  crouching  to  the  tioor  in  abject  terror. 
Patty  almost  scornfully  ministering  to  them. 
The  crash  of  Filipino  musketry  close  at  hand 
made  Pet  rave  with  apprehension.  They  must 
be  falling  back !  The  Americans  must  be  com- 
ing! "For  God's  sake — for  pity's  sake — order 
the  carriage  and  send  me  up  to  Pasig!"  he 
pleaded.  In  vain  Sandoval  strove  to  reassure 
him.  The  Americans  would  be  slaughtered, 
said  he,  if  they  dared  venture  to  cross  the 
Tripa.  "They  dream  not  of  the  valor  of  our 
soldiers."  he  declared,  and  ordered  coffee 
served  and  breakfast  cooked  without  delay. 
But  even  as  he  spoke  the  spat  of  whistling  bul- 
let, tearing  through  the  fragile  lattice  of  the 
floor  above,  made  Jonas  cower  lower,  and  the 
peal  of  the  bugle  called  the  young  staff  ofticer 
to  the  Plaza  without.  Carriage,  (juilez  and 
carromata  in  front  of  headquarters  were  being 
loaded  up  with  wounded  officers  and  official 
records.  The  reserves  were  forming  in  grim 
silence.  The  cheers  of  the  earlier  morning  had 
<lied     awav.       "Those     accursed     ^'ankoes!" 


lOO  JACK   ROYAL. 

growled  a  trembling,  grizzle-pated  official,"  his 
brown  face  streaked  with  sweat.  "They  have 
deceived  us.  They  have  thousands  to  our 
one!"  Sandoval  knew  well  what  that  meant. 
Not  that  the  enemy  had  gained  a  man,  but  that 
the  Insurgent  had  lost  his  nerve. 

Turning  to  a  shaking  little  servant,  he  bade 
him  seek  the  carriage  and  have  it  in  readiness 
at  the  "casa  Pettibone,"  then  hastened  once 
more  to  the  front.  Lying  dow^n  behind  the 
foot  high  ridges  in  the  rice  fields,  crouching  be- 
hind the  earth  parapets  of  their  redoubts,  aim- 
ing over  the  tough  stone  walls,  Ricarte's  lines 
were  still  blazing  at  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
Tripa,  sweeping  the  Concordia  Bridge  and 
sending  a  storm  of  Mauser  and  Remington  bul- 
lets into  the  smoke  bank  that,  hanging  low 
along  the  stream,  ever  and  anon  jetted  forth  a 
fiery  sheet,  as  in  steady,  well-aimed  volley  some 
Yankee  platoon  responded.  Peering  from  an 
upper  window  of  the  convent  he  could  look  out 
over  the  now  deserted  field  toward  the  Paco 
suburbs,  here,  there  and  everywhere  dotted  by 
patchs  of  pallid  blue  or  dirty  white,  the  aban- 
doned dead  of  the  Insurgent  brigade.  It  was 
eight  o'clock  and  Ricarte's  attack  had  failed. 


JACK   ROYAL.  lOI 

The  signals  from  across  the  Pasig  at  San 
FeHpe  Neri  and  further  away  San  Juan  del 
Monte  told  of  triumph  for  the  Filipino  cause 
and  bade  the  brothers  of  Pilar's  division  do 
their  share  and  the  day  was  won.  But  Sand- 
oval could  see  with  his  strong  glasses  that  San 
Miguel,  commanding  on  the  zone  in  front  of 
Santa  IMesa,  had  made  no  headway  against  the 
stalwart  lads  from  Colorado  and  Nebraska.  "A 
Spanish  victory!"  he  swore  in  bitter  wrath, 
and  then  went  bounding  down  the  stairs. 
Once  more  he  sought  the  presence  of  the  girl 
whose  l>eauty  had  enthralled,  whose  disdain 
liad  maddened  him.  Suppose  the  Yankee 
should  advance  or  turn  his  guns  on  Santa 
Ana!  then  what  hope  had  he  of  holding  her? 
There  stood  the  victoria  at  the  gate,  the  little 
stallions  dancing  from  excitement,  the  pigmy 
cochero  livid  and  shaking  from  fear.  Burst- 
ing without  ceremony  into  the  presence  of  the 
family  party,  he  found  it  reinforced  by  Jonas, 
Jr..  scared  but  spunky.  Even  that  inconspicu- 
ous citizen  had  some  pride  left,  and  the  stiff 
stand  of  his  fellow  ct»untrymen  had  rejoiced  his 
feeble  heart.  Coffee  and  food  stood  unnoticed 
on  the  table.     Old  Pet  was  crouching  in  a  cor- 


I02  JACK   KOVAL. 

ner.  Mrs.  Pet  moaning  on  a  bamboo  couch, 
Patty,  i)ale  but  calm,  was  hunting  through 
some  of  her  father's  papers.  "You  must  find 
it!"  he  quavered.     "It  would  ruin  me  if — " 

He  broke  ofif  with  a  shriek.  Three  Filipino 
soldiers  came  bounding  in  at  the  rear  door, 
arms  still  in  their  hands.  Furiously  Sandoval 
whipped  out  his  glittering  sv^ord  and  de- 
manded the  meaning  of  this  intrusion. 

"The  Americans!  The  Americans!"  was 
their  affrighted  cry. 

Springing  to  the  stairway  he  reached  the 
upper  story  and  gazed  out  over  the  native  nipa 
huts  and  the  level  rice  fields  beyond  them 
toward  the  Tripa,  and  there  he  saw  a  sight 
which  sent  the  blood  rushing  back  to  his  heart. 
In  long  blue  lines,  at  "fighting  intervals"  the 
right  of  the  Yankee  brigade  was  already  across 
the  Tripa  and  sweeping-  steadily  eastward 
toward  the  San  Pedro  road,  his  one  means  of 
escape  to  Pasig.  The  right  center  was  just 
emerging  from  the  stream,  four  splendid,  stal- 
wart companies  of  those  big  W'^ashingtons. 
They  halted  one  instant  at  the  brink.  The  line 
blazed  with  flame,  a  sheet  of  hissing  lead  swept 
the  field  and  tore  through  the  thinning  ranks 


JACK   ROVAL.  105 

to  the  south  of  Santa  Ana.  Then  (»n  tliey 
came  and,  as  in  panic,  Sandoval  leaped  down 
the  stairs.  The  crash  of  another  volley  straight 
from  Block  House  1 1  told  that  the  second  hat- 
talion  of  the  W'ashingtons  was  coming,  too, 
and  the  splinters  of  lattice  and  shell  work  cov- 
ered him  as  he  leaped  into  the  presence  of  the 
family  below. 

"To  the  carriage!"  he  shouted.  "Vou  have 
not  an  instant !  You  will  be  captured  !"  And 
with  a  howl  of  anguish  old  Pet  grabbed  at  his 
papers  and  ruslied  for  the  gate.  "Follow, 
Senora,  follow!"  he  said.  "Assist  the  Sen- 
ora,"  he  ordered  the  frightened,  but  docile 
soldiers — then  sprang  to  Patty's  side.  "Come, 
SefTorita,  come!"  he  cried.  But  she  darted 
behind  the  table  away  from  his  appealing 
hands.  Other  Insurgent  soldiers  came  hurry- 
ing in  through  the  open  court,  some  tearing  off 
their  uniforms  and  appearing  in  the  white  garb 
of  the  peaceful  natives,  seeking  where  to  hide 
their  arms.  The  crash  of  another  volley  not 
six  hundred  yards  away  and  a  glorious,  full- 
thn^ated  cheer  burst  on  the  morning  air,  and 
drove  the  Tagal  captain  to  frenzy.  With  one 
cat-like  spring    he    cleared    the    narrow  table, 


I04  JACK   ROYAL. 

and.  despite  her  furious  blows,  struggles  and 
shrieks,  seized  the  frantic  girl  in  his  :rrms  and 
shouted  to  the  soldiers  for  aid.  Death  was 
the  only  punishment  they  knew  for  disobedi- 
ence, and  at  his  demand  they,  too,  pounced  up- 
on her,  and.  borne  now  by  four  little  brown 
devils,  poor  Patty  was  rushed  into  the  open 
air,  through  the  gateway  and  out  on  the  open 
Plaza.  A  fierce  imprecation  fell  from  the  lips 
of  Sandoval.  The  carriage  was  gone!  Ter- 
rified by  the  nearing  clamor  and  uproar,  the 
little  team  had  darted  away,  and  with  Tagal 
soldiers  dragging  at  their  bits,  were  plunging 
and  rearing  full  three  hundred  yards  up  the 
square.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  thither  must 
she  be  carried,  and.  half  fainting,  the  fren- 
zied girl  was  hurried  along.  Yet  she  did  not 
lose  hope  or  pluck.  Nearer  and  nearer  the 
glorious  cheering  came,  borne  on  the  breeze, 
the  ringing  bugles  sounding  the  charge,  the 
rifles  rattling  all  along  the  line,  and  from  the 
south  and  west  front  of  the  village  the  scatter- 
ing shots  of  the  Filipinos  were  dwindling 
awa)^.  as  the  demoralized  offenders  took  refuge 
in  flight.  By  dozens  and  scores  the  little 
brown  men  were  scurrying  past  them  in  mad 


JACK   ROVAL.  105 

race  for  the  river  road.  Was  there  none  to 
help ? — none  to  save?  All  along  the  north  siiie 
of  the  Plaza  ran  a  high  stone  wall,  and  at  the 
middle  stood  th.e  ornamental  iron  gate,  now 
sternly  closed,  in  front  of  the  beautiful  grounds 
and  homestead  of  the  Macleans.  Patty's  im- 
ploring eyes  caught  sight  of  two  or  three  stal- 
wart forms  in  civilian  dress  behind  the  bars, 
and  all  her  remaining  strength  went  forth  in 
one  agonized  scream  for  help.  Then  came  a 
scene  such  as  Santa  Ana  never  knew  before. 
Forth  from  the  gateway  burst  three  Anglo 
Saxons  and  bore  down  full  tilt  on  Sandoval. 
••Don't  let  them  take  me!"  gasped  Patty,  and 
fainted.  There  were  breathless  questions,  furi- 
ous answers.  Brittanic  bluster  and  Tagal 
threats,  then  biff!  biff! — right  and  left  banders 
that  sprawled  two  of  Patty's  bearers  in  the  dirt. 
Biff!  Bang!  and  Sandoval's  half  drawn  pistol 
went  spinning  one  way,  the  owner  another. 
"Quick!  Back  to  the  house!"  ordered  Mac- 
lean, and  thither  the  victors  carried  the  girl 
just  as  a  sjnittering  volley  and  thrilling  chorus 
of  exultant  cheers  and  shouts  and  stentorian 
orders  'Torward!  Forward!  Roll  'em  u]) ! 
Swing  round  on  the  right !"  told  that  the  right 


I06  JACK   ROYAL. 

wing  of  the  Washingtons  had  carried  the 
works  and  now  were  bursting  in  tlirough  the 
native  huts-  at  the  south,  cutting  off  the  retreat 
of  Ricarte's  main  body.  Sandoval  w-as  trapped. 
The  carriage  whirled  away  and  darted  round 
a  distant  ccM'ner  to  the  San  Pedro  road.  In 
mad  panic  the  scattering  rebels  were  fleeing 
for  the  river  beyond  the  great  stone  church. 
Sandoval,  staggering  to  his  feet,  was  swept 
away  w-ith  them  just  as  the  blue-shirted  leaders 
of  the  Washingtons  came  cheering  and  charg- 
ing through  the  yards  and  pathways  opposite 
Maclean's  and  springing  out  into  the  open 
Plaza  in  a  dozen  places  at  once. 

For  a  few  seconds  the  volleying  broke  forth 
again,  as  they  spied  tlie  fleeing  Tagals.  But 
all  along  the  opposite  wall  the  belated  ones 
threw  down  their  arms  and  pleaded  piteously 
for  mercy.  "Round  'em  up.  Gather  'em  in,  lads," 
were  the  orders,  and  a  tall  young  officer  strode 
forward  to  the  group  of  natives  huddled  at 
Maclean's  gate.  Far  to  the  left  down  the 
Pasig  the  fierce  crash  of  volleys  told  where  the 
Idahos  and  the  Washington's  left  were  still 
hotly  engaged  at  the  rel)el  redoubts,  for, 
caught  like  rats    in    a    trap,    the  little  devils 


JACK   ROYAL.  IO7 

fought  savagely,  but  to  no  purpose.  The  rat- 
tle of  musketry  soon  gave  way  to  prolonged 
and  enthusiastic  cheers,  and  then  a  smiling 
civilian  appeared  behind  the  bars.  "Come  in, 
Mr.  Royal."  said  he.  '"We've  got  one  of  your 
prisoners  here." 

A  moment  later.  Jack  Royal  was  ushered 
upon  a  scene  that  so  long  as  he  shall  live  will 
live  with  him.  indelibly  photographed  upon  the 
filmy  retina  of  that  intangible  yet  almost  in- 
destructible organ — the  mind's  eye.  In  the 
safe  shelter  of  the  massive  stone  walls  of  the 
mansion,  in  an  improvised  sitting  room  on 
the  ground  floor,  three  fair  women  were  bend- 
ing over  a  couch  whereon  lay,  pallid,  yet  un- 
s])eakably  lovely,  a  fourth.  Wondering,  big- 
eyed,  flaxen-haired,  curly-pated  children  hung 
about  them.  With  an  inarticulate  cry  of 
mingled  joy,  relief  and  love  unutterable,  the 
tall  soldier  threw  himself  upon  his  knees,  be- 
side the  couch — before  them  all.  and  folded  the 
slender  fnmi  in  his  strong  arms,  pillowed  the 
pretty,  disheveled  head  on  his  breast — all  other 
captures  for  the  time  forgotten. 

it  was  the  sound,  unwelcome — doubtless — 
,    of  the  General's  voice  that  brought  Jack  Royal 


I08  JACK    ROVAL. 

back  to  earth.  Maclean  and  liis  friends  were 
extending  welcome  and  congratulation. 

"But  I  heard  the  men  at  the  gate  say  there 
was  another  prisoner  in  here,"  said  the  briga- 
dier.    "What  did  that  mean?" 

"It  must  have  meant  me,  sir,"  quoth  Jack, 
mopping  his  happy  face  as  he  came  forth  into 
the  sunshine  of  Santa  Ana. 

Old  Pet  was  not  present  at  his  daughter's 
quiet  wedding.  From  Filipino  sources  it  was 
learned  that  Sandoval  had  lived  to  fight  an- 
other day  and  died  like  a  little  man,  facing  the 
assault  of  Wheaton's  Flying  Column  on 
Cainta,  but  Filipino  reports  are  always  unre- 
liable. They  would  have  it  that  Pet  was 
drowned  in  the  Pasig  by  the  overturning  of 
the  banc  a  in  which  he  sought  to  escape  from 
the  pursuit  of  the  Californians  to  San  Pedro 
Macati,  and  that  madame  had  subsequently 
joined  her  fortunes  with  those  of  a  wealthy 
Meztizo  merchant,  whereas  officers  returning 
to  the  United  States  swore  they  saw  Pet  skulk- 
ing about  in  Nagasaki,  and  everybody  knows 
madame,  like  ]Mrs.  Micawber,  would  never  de- 
sert her  spouse. 


'■  With  Ills  liand  on  liis  heart  lie  made  her  a  low  bow." 


DOVE  COTE  DAYS. 


There  was  excitement  extraordinary  one 
still,  starlit  January  night,  soft,  warm  and  sen- 
suous, and  all  the  placid  suburb  of  Ermita, 
south  of  the  old  walled  city  of  Manila  was 
aroused  and  in  commotion.  Somewhere 
toward  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  sentries 
on  the  edge  of  the  Luneta  and  a  patrol  scout- 
ing through  the  narrow,  dusty  streets  had  been 
startled  by  a  woman's  scream,  fearful  in  its 
terror  and  intensity.  Instantly  there  went  up 
a  yell  from  three  or  four  lusty  throats.  "Corp'r'l 
the  Guard  Number  Three!"  "Copple  the 
Guard  Xuiiiber  Seven !"  as  the  sentries,  for- 
bidden to  leave  their  posts,  gave  hurried  alarm. 
But  the  patrol  on  the  Calle  Marina  and  the  cor- 
poral of  the  guard  at  the  guard-house  gates, 
hampered  by  no  such  instructions,  ran  like  wind 
to  the  Calle  San  Jose  whence  came  the  sound, 


I  10  DOVK    COTE   DAYS. 

and  brought  uj)  standing-  at  the  barred  gate- 
way of  the  quarters  occupied  by  Lieutenant 
Barriger,  of  the  Artillery. 

Already  doors  were  opening  and  heads  peer- 
ing forth  from  the  windows  of  the  native 
houses  across  the  way,  but  here  at  Barriger's 
all  was  silent.  Yet  the  sentry  at  the  corner 
could  have  sworn  the  scream  came  from  within 
those  walls.  In  two  minutes  the  officer  of  the 
guard  from  the  Calle  Real,  and  the  officer  of 
the  day,  who  was  making  the  rounds  down 
toward  the  English  Club,  came  hurrying  to  the 
spot  and  demanded  explanation.  Why  didn't 
Lieutenant  Barriger  show  himself?  was  the 
latter's  breathless  question. 

"He's  on  night  duty  over  at  the  Calle  Noza- 
leda,"  responded  young  Hunter,  lieutenant 
commanding  the  guard.  "That's  what  worries 
me.     The  ladies  are  alone." 

And  just  then  the  "jalousie"  blinds  of  the 
overhanging  gallery  slid  softly  aside,  and  a 
woman's  voice,  sweet  and  controlled,  despite 
the  tremor  of  some  powerful  excitement,  was 
heard  to  say :  "There  is  no  occasion  for  fur- 
ther alarm.  My  sister  has  been  badly  fright- 
ened.    Is  Mr.   Hunter  there?     Ah,  ves — Mr. 


DOVK    COTt:   DAYS.  I  1  I 

Hunter,  if  you  can  get  word  to  Mr.  Barriger 
to  come  to  us  as  soon  as  possible  I  will  thank 
you  very  much." 

"Can  we  Ije  of  no  service.  Miss  Ferris?"  in- 
quired the  hard-breathing,  pi^rtly  officer  of  the 
day. 

"Thank  you.  Captain.  I  fear  it's  too  late. 
But  you  might  send  a  few  men  round  and 
search  the  garden  at  the  back.  Somebody  has 
been  in  here." 

And  that  is  all  that  was  told  that  night,  or 
for  two  days  afterward,  except  that  the  Diario 
de  Manila  and  both  Freedom  and  Ameridi 
came  out  with  advertisements  in  Spanish  and 
English  somewhat  as  follows : 

"Stolen — From  the  quarters  of  Lieutenant  Barriger. 
Ermita.  on  Thursday  night,  money,  jewelry  and  a  Rus- 
sia leather  case  containing  letters  and  papers.  $200, 
Me.x..  will  be  paid  for  the  safe  return  of  the  missing 
case  with  contents,  and  no  questions  asked." 

"Xow  what  the  dickens."  was  the  question 
all  over  the  quarters  of  the  Eighth  Corps  in 
and  about  Manila — "what  the  clickens  did  Bar- 
riger mean  bv  leaving"  valuable  pa[)ers  any- 
where outside  of  a  burglar-proof  safe  in  such 
a  sneak-thief  centre  a?  this?" 


I  I  2  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

Only  one  man  could  answer  that  question — 
or  possibly  two:  the  Lieutenant  himself,  or 
else  the  comrade  who  of  late  had  been  his  al- 
most daily  associate,  Captain  Adair,  of  the  — th 
Cavalry. 

Sam  Barriger  had  been  married  just  six 
weeks  when  the  war  broke  out  and  he  was  or- 
dered to  Manila.  It  w^is  a  sore  blow  to  pretty 
Kitty  Ferris,  his  bride.  They  had  been  en- 
gaged half  a  year  with  the  knowledge  and  con- 
sent cf  the  elders,  and  twice  as  long  without. 
They  had  met  when  he  was  serving  at  the 
Presidio  the  winter  of  '95-6 — he  coming  in  for 
frequent  dinners  and  she  coming  out  as  a 
debutante. 

]\Iost  girls  in  her  set  in  San  Francisco  were 
tall  and  willowy;  Kitty  was  willowy,  but  not 
tall.  She  was  a  mite  and  a  darling,  the  joy 
of  her  parents  and  the  idol  of  her  elder  sister, 
Constance.  The  Ferrises  were  well-to-do,  had 
ambitious  projects  for  both  daughters  and  were 
doomed  to  disappointment.  Constance  had 
been  betrothed  to  a  man  of  mature  years  with 
big  returns  from  his  profession,  but  something 
happened  to  kill  her  respect  for  him  and  she 
summarily  snapped  the  tie  and   declared  the 


DOVE   CUTE   DAYS.  I  I  3 

engagement  ended.  It  was  something  in  some 
way  connected  with  a  previous  entanglement. 
The  barrister  was  an  eloquent  pleader  and  he 
hr.d  an  earnest  advocate  in  the  person  of  Mrs. 
Ferris,  but  they  talked  to  stone. 

The  counselor  took  bis  leave  and  a  trip  to 
Europe.  The  mother  took  it  out  of  her  daugh- 
ter by  denouncing  her  daily  for  a  week  as 
b.eartless.  undutiful  and  absurd.  Then  pater- 
familias called  a  halt.  He  and  the  lawyer 
were  friends  and  fellow-members  of  a  well- 
known  club.  He  had  fathered  the  suit,  but 
down  in  the  depths  of  his  better  nature  he  knew 
that  his  pure-minded,  truthful,  honest  Con  de- 
served the  love  of  a  man  as  honest  as  herself — 
if  she  cctuld  find  one.  and  when  he  saw  her 
white  face  as  she  came  forth  from  one  of  those 
tlaily  upbraidings  he  envied  the  man  who  could 
accomplish  the  apparently  impossible  feat  of 
kicking  himself  down  stairs.  He  shrank  from 
her  in  shame,  then  went  in  to  his  wife,  told 
her  Ci'Ustance  was  right  and  they  were  wrong 
and  that  must  be  the  end  of  it.  The  girl  should 
make  her  own  choice  next  time,  and  mean- 
while might  the  Lord  forgive  him  for  having 
brought  her  such  annoy ! 


114  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

But  thoiic^li  suitors  came,  Constance  seemed 
to  shrink  fartlier  and  farther  into  her  shell. 
Were  all  men  like  her  former  betrothed? 
seemed  to  be  the  question  uppermost  m  her 
mind.  She  continued  in  society,  but  her  heart 
wrapped  itself  about  little  Kitty,  and  when 
that  child  "came  out."  great  was  the  pride  and 
rejoicing.  The  mother  took  heart  again.  If 
Con  persisted  in  being  an  old  maid,  here  at 
least  was  a  daughter  who  could  be  relied  on  to 
make  a  brilliant  match. 

There  were  giants  in  those  days  in  the  way 
of  "catches" — young  gentlemen  of  fortune  and 
family  connection,  and  Mamma  Ferris  had  set 
her  cap  for  one  of  these,  a  near  neighbor,  a 
charming  fellow,  the  only  son  of  his  mother, 
and  she  thought  him  well  on  the  way  to  per- 
manent ensnarement  when  what  did  he  do  but 
bring  Sam  Barriger,  his  friend  from  the 
Presidio,  to  call.  Then  he  gave  theatre  parties 
to  both  girls,  chaperoned  sometimes  by  his 
mother,  sometimes  by  theirs,  but  attended  al- 
ways by  Sam,  and  this  made  Mrs.  Ferris  rabid. 
Their  host  was  not  handsome,  whereas  Sam 
was — extremely  so ;  and  to  the  mischievous  de- 
light of   social   circles   and   the   wrath   of  the 


DOVK   COTE   DAYS.  I  1  5 

mother.  Miss  Kit  ingenuously  displayed  a 
growing  joy  in  Barriger's  presence  and  was 
obviously  and  radiantly  happy  when  dancing 
with  him.  It  was  a  famous  light  battery  that 
gave  those  dashing  drills  once  a  week  for  the 
benefit  of  admiring  and  applauding  himdreds 
from  town,  and  Sam  Barriger's  horsemanship 
was  as  good  as  his  dancing.  His  voice  had  a 
clarion  ring  to  it.  and  in  the  dash  and  dust  and 
smoke  of  mimic  battle  he  rode  and  moved  a 
hero  fit  to  grace  the  pages  of  Scott,  and  Kitty 
Ferris  was  not  the  only  girl  in  'Frisco  to  be 
moved  by  the  sight.  This  precipitated  matters 
— but  I  should  like  to  tell  that  story  another 
time,  or  rather  read  it  as  it  could  be  told  by 
another  fellow.  There  is  only  rotnn  for  the 
main  issue. 

Now  a  word  as  to  Barriger.  He  was  a  far 
better  fellow  than  would  appear  from  what  has 
thus  far  been  said  of  him.  He  was  a  gentle- 
man and  a  soldier — a  gentleman  so  poor  in 
pocket  that  he  denied  himself  both  tipple  and 
tobacco  in  order  that  he  might  never  owe  any 
man  a  penny — might  even  occasionally  repay 
the  lavish  hospitality  accorded  him.  He  was 
a  soldier  so  fine,  so  enthusiastic  that  he  loved 


Il6  DOVE   COTE  DAYS. 

every  detail  of  his  duty  and  did  it  up  to  the 
handle,  to  the  end  that  among  his  fellows  of 
the  allied  arms  of  the  service  he  had  won  the 
sobriquet  of  Battery  Sam.  He  had  his  faults, 
or  he  wouldn't  have  been  human.  Some  of 
them  will  not  appear  in  this  story  and  there- 
fore need  not  be  mentioned. 

One  of  them  came  near  turning  it  topsy- 
turvy, and  that  was  almost  indomitable  pride. 
He  fell  frankly,  honestly  in  love  with  Kitty 
Ferris  before  he  had  known  her  a  week.  Then 
something  her  mother  said  gave  him  a  setback 
that  made  the  little  maiden  sick  at  heart.  He 
went  off  on  a  month's  leave,  exploring  the 
Yosemite  at  the  very  moment  she  had  reason 
to  expect  him  to  remain  at  her  side,  and  wo- 
manfully  did  she  make  him  feel  it  when  he 
returned  and  found  her  absorbed,  apparently, 
in  the  devotions  of  half  a  dozen  other  fellows. 
It  was  about  this  time  the  other  girl  episode 
occurred.  Sam  and  Kitty,  with  hearts  close 
knit,  in  spite  of  brave  show  to  the  contrary, 
were  slowly  drifting  apart,  and  a  certain  Miss 
Caxton  appeared  about  ready  to  receive  con- 
gratulations, and  as  much  as  said  so  to  Kitty, 
who  returned  the  stab  on  the  spot,  with  smiling 


DOVE   COTE  DAYS.  I  I  J 

interest,  like  the  plucky  little  woman  she  was  at 
bottom,  and  then  in  the  dead  hours  of  the  night 
deluged  her  pillow  with  tears  :'nd  was  caught 
in  the  act  by  Constance. 

There  was  a  double  theatre  party  and  sub- 
sequent supper  at  the  Bohemian  Club  two 
nights  later  to  which  Miss  Caxton  did  not  hap- 
pen to  be  bidden,  but  there,  among  others,  was 
Barriger.  and  there  was  Constance  Ferris,  be- 
tween whom  occurred  a  ten-minute  talk,  un- 
heard of  others,  late  in  the  evening,  and  from 
that  night  dates  Sam  Barriger's  enthusiastic, 
chivalric  admiration  for  his  sister-in-law.  "She 
is  the  best  and  noblest  woman  that  ever  lived." 
said  he,  some  time  later,  "and  the  dearest — ex- 
cept one." 

It  wasn't  a  happy  courtship.  Both  parents 
"kicked"  vehemently  at  the  idea  of  Kit's  marry- 
ing in  the  army.  I  don't  much  blame  them, 
despite  my  belief  that  army  women  as  a  rule, 
are  the  happiest  in  the  w<irld.  For  six  months 
they  wouldn't  listen  to  it  and  forbade  Sam  the 
house.  Then  they  offered  to  admit  him  on 
probation,  so  to  speak,  and  he  wouldn't  come. 
Then  Ferris,  with  a  sigh,  said  if  Mr.  Barriger 
w^ould  resign  and  go  into  business  in  San  I-Van- 


I  1 8  DOVE   COTE  DAYS, 

cisc(3  he  would  consider  it.  Mr.  Barriger  re- 
plied that  his  profession  had  long  since  been 
chosen  and  he  preferred  it  to  anything  else, 
stock  brokerage  especially.  Meantime  they 
tried  the  moth-eaten  device  of  a  trip  abroad — 
Kit,  Constance  and  her  mother — and  that 
didn't  work.  Finally  Ferris  gave  in  and  at 
the  last  moment  his  spouse  followed  suit.  The 
wedding  was  beautiful,  the  honeymoon  blissful 
— and  then  came  the  war. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  little  Mrs.  Barriger 
did  not  behave  like  a  heroine  when  Sam  was 
ordered  across  the  seas.  She  considered  him 
a  bit  of  personal  property  and  contested  the 
claim  of  his  Uncle  Sam.  Ferris  wired  to  a 
Senator  or  two,  and  the  tender  of  a  captaincy 
in  the  subsistence  department  (of  the  volun- 
teers) came  flashing  back,  only  to  be  promptly 
declined.  He  was  going  with  his  guns.  Ferris 
at  first  called  him  an  ungrateful  cub,  but  was 
out  on  the  street  waving  his  hat  and  shouting 
with  the  rest  of  San  Francisco  when  Ander- 
son's— the  first — expedition  marched  down  to 
the  ships,  and  there  at  the  wharf  he  reached  up 
and  whacked  his  tall  son-in-law  between  the 
shoulder  blades  and  stammered  something  to 


DOVE   COTE   DAYS.  I  I9 

the  effect  that  he  was  prDiul  of  him  ami  of  his 
going,  atul  of  Kit  for  sticking  to  him. 

Manihi  fell  in  August.  The  tiag  went  up 
on  the  Ayuntamiento  and  prices  on  the  Escolta, 
And  along  in  the  autumn,  to  the  consternation 
of  the  Commanding  General,  certain  devoted 
army  wives  maile  their  way  to  the  Orient,  and 
nt)  sooner  was  it  known  that  the  venturesome 
half  dozen  were  actually  there  than  half  a  hun- 
dred others  were  inspired  with  like  ambition. 
Peace  for  a  season  bade  the  world  farewell  as 
far  as  the  Commanding  General  and  the  Quar- 
termaster's department  were  concerned,  for  the 
number  of  women  with  missions  to  Manila  out- 
numbered the  staterooms  on  the  transports, 
and,  to  put  an  end  to  importunity,  out  came  the 
order  that  none  would  be  taken.  This  barred 
women  who  couldn't  afford  the  journey  at  their 
own  exi)ense.  but  was  no  hindrance  to  Mrs. 
Barriger.  She  and  Constance  had  been  to 
Honolulu  on  the  Doric;  'twas  but  a  fortnight 
farther  to  Hong  Kong:  Constance  was  of  years 
that  made  her  mistress  of  her  own  means  and 
meanderings ;  Kit  was  determined  to  join  her 
husband;  Lawyer  lUirton  had  returned  to  his 
practice  and    showetl   symptoms  of   returning 


I20  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

to  his  clevotiDiis,  and  so  it  happened  that,  late 
in  Septemher,  wlien  the  O.  &  O.  hner  shoved 
off  for  Shanghai,  Hong  Kong  and  intermediate 
ports,  the  sisters  sailed  for  the  China  Sea  as 
special  charges  of  her  gallant  Captain,  and  a 
month  later  were  steaming  into  the  mouth  of 
the  swirling  Pasig. 

Now,  at  the  edge  of  the  Ermita  suburb,  close 
by  the  cooling  sea,  Sam  Barriger  had  found 
a  nest  for  his  birdlings  and,  aided  by  the  sym- 
pathetic hands  of  a  big-hearted  army  woman, 
had  it  all  in  readiness  when  the  steamer  was 
sighted.  It  was  a  cozy  little  box,  built  after 
the  Philippine  fashion  of  solid  stone  on  the 
gnnind  floor,  solid  wood  on  the  floorings  above 
and  l)elow,  luit  of  light,  airy  framework — lat- 
tice, bamboo  and  shell — as  to  superstructure. 
Tough  enough  it  was  to  resist  tornado,  yet 
sufficiently  elastic  to  give  and  swing  and  sway 
in  case  of  earthquake,  and.  if  it  had  to  C(3me 
down,  not  so  heavy  as  to  smash  everything  on 
which  it  might  descend. 

It  was  owned  by  a  native  merchant,  glad 
enough  to  take  American  coin  in  preference  to 
Manila  currency.  Its  front  wall  abutted  on 
the  narrow  sidewalk :  the  front  doors  and  win- 


IK)VK   COTI-:   DAYS.  I -' I 


dows.  Ptter  the  jealous  Oriental  mode,  being 
heavily  barred  with  iron.  Its  rear  elevation 
gave  ujion  a  pretty  garden  bounded  north  and 
south  by  high  walls  of  hewn  stone,  cappe/1  by 
jagged  glass  set  in  cement.  Westward  through 
the  high,  vertical  iron  pickets  of  a  forbidrling 
fence  shone  the  sparkling  bay.  which  at  high 
tide  bathed  the  sea-wall  in  briny  foam.  East 
and  west  a  broad  latticed  gallery  or  vestibule 
overhung  the  lower  story.  The  spiral  stair- 
way from  the  ground  floor  opened  on  the 
breezv  salon  off  which  were  the  bedrooms  rm 
one  side,  the  dining  and  spare  room  on  the 
other.  The  kitchen  was  in  a  little  detached 
structure  connected  with  the  gallery  and  din- 
ing-room by  a  light,  bamboo  bridge.  The  serv- 
ants' f|uarters  were  below.  It  was  furnished 
simply  and  sufficiently  after  the  Oriental  fash- 
ion, with  broad,  cane-bottomed  bedsteads,  with 
deep,  easv  lounging  chairs  and  settees  of  bam- 
boo and  cane.  It  was  destitue  of  carpets,  f>or- 
ticrcs  or  heavy  curtains.  It  lacked  electric 
lights  and  marbled  bathrooms,  but  a  fountain 
plashed  i)erennially  in  a  broad  basin  in  the  gar- 
den. The  north  and  south  windows  looke<l 
out  on  luxuriant  foliage  and  brilliant  flowers. 


122  DOVE  COTE  DAYS. 

A  few  paintings  by  native  hands — no  mean 
limners  they — adorned  the  walls.  The  chan- 
deliers and  sconces  shone  like  polished  silver, 
and  Captain  Adair,  dropping  in  in  his  friendly 
way  to  see  iiow  Barriger  was  settled,  gazed 
approvingly  anil  then  semi-satirically  dubbed 
the  place  the  "Dove-Cote." 

"There's  only  one  thing  about  it  I  don't  like, 
Barriger,"  said  he,  after  a  leisurely  survey, 
"and  that's  your  neighbors.  Native  houses  on 
every  side  of  you  but  that ;"  and  he  pointed  out 
over  the  broad  bosom  of  the  bay,  dotted  with 
warships,  tramps  and  transports,  and  all  glis- 
tening in  the  declining  sun. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  natives?"  said 
Sam.  "They  seem  amicable  enough,  in  all 
conscience.  Six  women  were  here  this  morn- 
ing to  bid  for  the  family  ^Vash.  How  quick 
they  knew  womenfolk  were  coming!" 

"How  quick  they  know  everything!"  said 
Adair,  knocking  the  ash  off  his  cigarette  and 
strolling  to  the  lattice  at  the  front.  A  shove 
with  his  powerful  hand  sent  the  high  frame 
sliding  easily  back  in  its  groove,  and  it  opened 
on  the  narrow  street  and  opposite  houses  barely 
forty  feet  away. 


DOVE   COTE   DAYS.  •  IJ3 

Seated  in  a  somewhat  similar  gallery,  heed- 
less of  the  glare  of  the  slanting  sun.  was  a  na- 
tive woman  with  two  men,  one  of  the  latter  in 
the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  Insurgent 
Army.  All  three  glanced  up  at  sound  of  the 
sliding  lattice,  and  at  sight  of  Adair  the  ofBcer 
sprang  (juickly  to  his  feet  and  stood  at  salute. 
Grimly  the  Captain  responded,  then  turned  to 
his  junior. 

"I  only  wish  you  were  near  your  battery  (*r 
OUT  ktrracks.  (ir  even  in  town,  close  to  the  river, 
where  they  CDuld  get  out  to  the  transports. 
When  the  row  begins  it  will  be  all  of  a  sudden 
and  there's  no  refuge  near  you." 

"It  was  the  best  I  could  do,"'  answered  Bar- 
riger.  an  anxious  cloud  on  his  fine  face,  "and 
they  seem  confident  at  headquarters  no  row  is 
coming." 

"Yes,  that's  what  they  give  out,  luit  they're 
not  so  confident  that  we  don't  get  scare  orders 
and  warnings  thrice  a  week.  Now.  what's 
that  fellow  Medina  doing  yonder?  'S'ou  kn..w 
who  he  is.  don't  you?" 

"I  don't."  answered  Barriger.  "I've  met 
him  a  few  times  on  the  street  and  he's  mon- 
strous p(,)lite." 


124  '  DOVE  COTE  DAYS. 

"He  was  with  Pio  del  Pilar,  all  the  same,  the 
(lay  the  I^'ourtecnth  came  so  near  a  clash  with 
the  Tagals  over  at  the  Paco  cigar  factory.  He 
is  as  smooth  a  scamp  as  ever  I  met.  He  can 
lie  in  three  languages  and  tell  the  truth  in  none. 
He  l)elongs  out  at  San  Pedro  Macati,  but 
spends  most  of  his  time  picking  up  news  in 
town.     Keep  an  eye  on  him,  Sam." 

And  Medina — Ysidro  Medina — was  in  that 
opposite  gallery  when,  a  few  days  later,  happy 
Kitty  Barriger  threw  back  the  lattice  to  breathe 
the  morning  air,  and  with  his  hand  on  his  heart 
he  made  her  a  low  bow.  The  girl-wife  was  de- 
lighted with  her  quaint  and  pretty  nest.  She 
missed  the  luxuriant  flowers  and  luscious  fruits 
of  her  California  home.  She  found  the  Manila 
market  but  a  sparse  and  inadequate  means  of 
varying  their  daily  fare,  but  her  Filipino  chef, 
with  his  high-bred,  Spanish  manner,  his  high- 
combed  "Pompadour"  front,  his  immaculate 
white  ropas,  knew  how  to  levy  on  the  native 
fishermen  as  they  paddled  swiftly  by  in  their 
sharp-bowed  bancas.  He  had  the  run  of  neigh- 
boring poultry  yards.  His  fish  breakfasts  and 
curried  chicken  lunches,  his  rich  coffee  and  deli- 
cate.  Japan-brewed   tea,   all   appealed   to    her 


DOVE   COTE  DAYS.  125 

dainty  palate  and  won  her  sister's  smiling  ap- 
proval. As  for  Sam,  he  had  the  appetite  of  a 
strong,  stalwart,  healthful  man,  and  sole 
leather  might  not  have  proved  indigestible  in 
such  surn-undings.  Before  they  had  been 
housekeeping  a  week  the  sisters  had  received 
the  visits  of  a  swarm  of  soldier  wives  and 
daughters,  and  at  least  a  score  of  officials  had 
found  time  to  call.  Some  of  them,  notably 
Sam's  battery  associates,  more  than  once;  one 
of  them,  not  of  Sam's  battery,  but  of  the  troop- 
ers away  over  at  the  Marcelino  (to  their  in- 
tense interest  and  amusement,  by  the  way,  for 
he  had  been  regarded  a  confirmed  old  bachelor) 
no  less  than  thrice — and  that  was  Captain 
Adair.  But  then,  despite  ten  years'  difference 
in  their  ages,  he  had  somehow  become  Barri- 
srer's  closest  friend.  , 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Sam  one  beautiful  evening 
after  their  arrival,  as  the  quartette  left  the  din- 
ner-table and  strolled  out  to  the  rear  gallery  to 
watch  the  brilliant  night  lights  of  the  fleet,  "I 
thought  we  should  have  trouble  about  servants, 
but  they  are  admirably  trained.  Manuel  is  a 
capital  cook,  and  so  respectful  and  willing. 
Ypolito  is  deft  and  quick,  and  so  noiseless,  you 


126  DOVE   COTK   DAYS. 

know.  W  liy,  1  never  seem  to  hear  him  mov- 
ing around,  and  as  for  Carmencita,  liis  Httle  dot 
of  a  wife,  she's  the  neatest,  cleanest,  daintiest 
little  mite  yon  ever  saw,  always  smiling  and 
busy,  and  she,  too — why,  -she's  just  like  a 
mouse!" 

"Ye — es.  I  noticed  it,"  responded  Adair, 
glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  Manuel  approach- 
ing with  tiny  cups  of  cofifee  on  a  lacquered  tray. 
"That  is  one  reason  why  I  advocated  the  strong 
box." 

Here  laughing  voices  and  swishing  skirts 
were  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  while  Mrs. 
Barriger  arose  to  receive  her  guests,  Adair 
seized  the  opportunity  to  secure  a  place  by  Miss 
Ferris'  side.  Talk  was  general  for  half  an 
hour.  It  was  after  the  Brents  had  gone,  and 
Adair  knew  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  moving, 
that  Constance  Ferris  looked  up  into  his  earn- 
est eyes  and  said : 

"Captain  Adair,  I  have  heard  you  speak 
twice  now  of  the  possibility  of  treachery  or 
theft  on  the  part  of  the  servants.  Tell  me 
why." 

"It  is  born  in  them,  to  begin  with.  Miss  Fer- 
ris," said  he,  "and  developed  by  three  centuries 


DOVE   COTE  DAYS.  1 27 

of  Latin  rule.  Valuables  shouUl  be  in  the  i)ay- 
master's  big  sate  u])  in  town — not  here.  You, 
T  notice — pardon  me — wear  very  little  jewelry, 
but  Mrs.  Rarriger's  rings — now — "  .And  the 
look  in  the  direction  of  those  tiny  white  hands 
on  which  were  flashing  gems  of  price  and 
beauty  was  elo(|uent  with  anxiety. 

And  so  it  happened  that  a  genial  Colonel  at 
the  Ayuntamiento  became  custodian  of  certain 
valuables  of  the  Barriger  household.  Kitty 
would  not  part  w  ith  her  jiretty  watch,  her  locket 
with  Sam's  picture  therein  that  almost  always 
slept  at  her  snowy  neck,  and  then  household 
money  they  had  to  have.  But  a  month  went 
by  without  their  missing  a  stiver  or  seeing  a 
sign  of  dishonesty,  and  then  Kitty  said 
"Pshaw  I"  and  drove  to  the  paymaster's  and 
got  her  packet.  There  was  to  be  a  reception 
and  dance  at  the  Division  Commander's  and 
she  needed  those  diamonds. 

That  night  as  Adair  strolled  slowly  bark  to 
barracks  after  a  visit  of  more  than  usual  length 
he  came  suddenly  upon  Captain  Ysidro  Me- 
dina, of  Pilar's  staff,  at  the  corner  of  the  Padre 
Faura,  and  but  grullly  responded  to  his  elabo- 
rate "niiriuis    uochcs.    Caballcro."     He  never 


128  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

had  fancied  Medina,  and  lie  had  grown  to  ab- 
hor liim  since  the  Tagal  officer  had  taken  to 
frequent  visits  at  the  opposite  house  and  im- 
pressive salutations  to  the  sisters  whenever 
they  appeared  on  the  front  gallery.  "What 
the  devil  is  that  fellow  waiting  here  for  at  this 
time  of  night?"  growled  Adair,  as  he  turned  to 
the  left.  A  mellow-toned  bell  was  chiming 
ten  o'clock  from  the  tower  of  the  old  Spanish 
church  the  block  above.  It  was  answ^ered  from 
the  cupola  of  the  Jesuit  College  and  by  the 
soft,  prolonged  notes  of  the  cavalry  trumpet 
sounding  taps  across  the  open  fields  beyond  the 
observatory.  Therr  behind  him  came  a  sentry's 
challenge,  sharp  and  imperative,  "Halt!  Who 
is  there?"  And,  w^hirling  about,  supposing 
himself  the  object,  Adair  caught  sight  of  the 
blue-shirted  regular  with  leveled  bayonet,  fac- 
ing a  figure  in  native  white — a  figure  that  in  a 
strangely  familiar  voice  squeaked  the  trem- 
ulous answer: 

''Ami go  Filipino." 

It  was  Ypolito! 

And  yet,  when  Adair  left  the  Barrigers  not 
ten  minutes  before,  Ypolito,  the  urbane,  the 
incomparable,  Mrs.  Kitty's  boast,  in  fact,  was 


DOVE   COTE  DAYS.  I  JtJ 

tlmiigrht  to  be  soiukI  asleep  in  his  dwii  little  den 
underneatli  the  suloi.  He  had  issued  from  a 
narrow  passage  between  some  native  hotises 
leading  to  the  side-walk  of  the  Calle  Faura,  be- 
lieving, dr-ubtless,  that  the  coast  w^as  clear,  but 
had.  encountered  the  leveled  bayonet  at  the  cor- 
ner c»f  the  Calle  Marina,  lie  was  all  of  a 
tremble  and  at  tlie  sight  of  Adair  began  to 
plead.  "Mi  hcnnano!  niuy  uialo.  Scnor,  iiiiix 
male  I"  A  sick  brother  is  something  a  Tagal 
can  trump  up  at  an  instant's  notice.  Adair 
dcubted,  but  what  could  he  do?  The  corporal 
came  and  said.  "Let  him  go."  The  orders 
were  to  treat  the  natives  with  every  possible 
consideration  and  kindness,  to  .salute  their  offi- 
cers, to  fraternize  with  their  men.  But  Adair 
connected  Captain  Ysidro  with  Ypolito's  prowl- 
ing and  went  home  dissatisfied. 

"You'll  have  to  watch  those  beggars  of 
yours.  Barriger."  said  he  the  next  day.  "And 
you'd  better  coax  Mrs.  Kitty  to  return  those 
valuables  to  the  safe." 

But  Kit  wouldn't.  Ypolito  and  his  wife 
were  .«;aints  and  Ypolito's  brother  was  really 
7'cry  ill :  she  was  sure  of  it.  Constance  added 
her  persuasion  and  was  called  cruel  and  sus- 


130  DOVE   COTE    DAYS. 

picious.  The  little  matron  had  a  will  of  her 
own. 

"I  don't  see  how  anything  can  he  taken. 
Adair,"  said  Barriger.  finding  his  wife  obdu- 
rate. "Yon  know  I  am  always  home  at  night, 
and — " 

"Yes.  but  will  you  always  be?"  (lueried 
Adair  anxiously.  "Things  are  getting  squal- 
lier every  day." 

.-\nd  so  they  were.  The  whole  demeanor  of 
the  natives  was  changing.  Their  leaders. 
balked  in  their  plan  to  compel  the  recognition 
of  their  government  and  control,  had  with- 
drawn to  the  north,  had  virtually  penned  up 
the  Americans  in  Manila  and  forbidden  their 
crossing  the  lines  toward  the  surrounding  vil- 
lages, even  while  they  themselves  claimed  the 
right  to  go  within  the  lines  at  will.  Their 
guns  were  planted  commanding  the  American 
outposts.  Their  earthworks  grew  with  every 
night.  Their  ofiicers  and  soldiers  repeatedly 
insulted  and  threatened  our  sentries,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  clash  was  coming,  and  com- 
ing soon.  Other  officers  had  arranged  at  first 
alarm  to  send  their  households  at  once  to  the 
transports  in  the  bay.     But  Barriger's  house 


I)()\'I-:    fOTl".    DAYS.  I  l\ 


was  a  mile  from  the  river  landing-  and  the 
water  was  so  shallow  in  the  rear  of  their  sea- 
wall that  nn  launch  could  land,  or  even  venture 
within  fifty  feet  of  the  beach.  Everywhere  the 
story  was  current  that  the  attack  from  without 
would  he  accompanied  by  an  uprising  of  the 
natives  within.  No  wonder  family  men  were 
anxious! 

And  then  came  a  demand  for  Barriger's 
services  at  division  headquarters.  He  spoke 
Spanish  and  was  needed  in  the  frequent  clashes 
that  occurred  l)etween  the  outposts  out  Santa 
Ana  way.  Thrice  in  »^ne  week  he  was  sent  to 
remonstrate  with  General  Ricarte  upon  the  ag- 
gressions of  the  Tagal  officers  and  guards  at 
Concordia  Bridge.  Thrice  was  Ricarte  pro- 
fuse in  explanation  and  expressions  of  regret. 
"It  shouldn't  occur  again,"  said  he.  Vet  it  did, 
night  after  night,  and  the  Division  General  saw 
the  inevitable  and  made  his  dispositions  accord- 
ingly. 

Ten  weeks  of  bliss — ten  weeks  of  "dove- 
cote days."  as  Adair  called  them — were  fol- 
lowed by  a  fortnight  of  war  alarms.  Adair 
had  become  an  almost  daily  visitor,  welcomed 
with   jtlayfnl   anrl   cvcr-Lrr"wing  confidence  by 


1^2  1)(A  H    COTE   DAYS. 

Kitty,  and  a  certain  sweet  shyness  and  reserve 
by   Constance.     All   the   First   Division   knew 
by  that  time  what  took  that  stalwart  dragoon 
so  constantly  to  Barriger's,  and  now  that  the 
General  had  seized  upon  Sam  and  kept  him  so 
constantly  on  new  and  novel  duties,  Adair  took 
it  upon  himself  to  plan  for  the  protection  of 
the  inmates  of  the  Cote.     Out  in  the  bay  the 
Biltmore  swung  at  anchor  a  mile  to  the  west, 
Quaker-like  in  her  leaden  gray.  Adair  brought 
her  executive  and  w^ard-room  officers  to  call. 
This  w-as  magnanimous  in  him,  for  they  kept 
coming,  but  it  was  all  part  of  his  plan.     Lieu- 
tenant-Commander   Sternsheets  promised  that 
the  instant  they    got    wind    of    trouble  a  boat 
should  be  sent  close  back  of  the  Dove-Cote  and 
Jacky  should  wade  ashore  and  bear  the  doves 
to  sea.     Then  Adair  had  further  plans  of  his 
own.     The  Division    General    had    issued  in 
typewritten  form    confidential    instructions  to 
his  brigade  commanders  and  certain  staff  offi- 
cers.    It  was  but  a  puny  force  he  had  to  defend 
so  big  a  territory  against  such  a  host  of  foes, 
but   they   were   stout-hearted   fellows,   and   so 
long  as  the  insurgents  did  not  fathom  the  plans 


DOVI-:    COTE   DAYS.  I  33 

and  make  counter  dispositions  there  was  little 
to  dread. 

"You  shall  join  your  beloved  battery  if  it 
comes  to  fis^hting,"  said  the  chief,  with  a  smile, 
to  Mr.  Barriger.  "But  meantime  I  need  you." 
And  only  Kitty  rebelled  at  the  distinction  ac- 
corded him. 

One  January  evening  when  not  a  breath  of 
air  seemed  stirring,  after  their  daily  drive  and 
late  dinner  they  were  seated  on  the  rear  gallery 
watching  the  brilliant  searchlights  of  the  fleet 
and  the  varicolored  signals  twinkling  across  the 
moonlit  liay.  Kitty  sat  with  her  husband's 
hand  in  hers,  looking  up  into  his  face  and  softly 
cooing,  as  became  a  dove  of  high  degree.  .\ 
few  paces  away.  Constance  reclined  in  her  easy 
chair,  with  Adair  l^ending  eagerly  t(iward  her, 
yet  saying  little.  The  soft  plash  of  the  wave- 
lets was  almost  the  only  sound  to  break  upon 
the  stillness  of  the  night,  and  even  they  seemed 
to  be  saying  only.  "Hush!  Hush!"  in  sooth- 
ing monotone.  Visitors  came  and  went,  and 
at  last  the  ships'  bells  had  tinkled  in  dcniblets 
the  si.x  silvery  strokes  that  told  'twas  eleven 
o'clock.  Adair  knew  he  should  be  going  to 
barracks,  yet  lingered.      B(nh  oflicers  were  in 


134  DOVE   COTE  DAYS. 

kliaki,  for  calls  to  arms  had  been  fre(|iient,  and 
from  the  left  breast-pocket  of  Barriger's  coat 
protruded  about  one-fourth  the  length  of  a 
Russia  leather  case,  a  flat  pocketbook. 

"Can't  you  stow  that  inside?"  Adair  had 
asked.  "These  stiff-legged  ponies  will  jolt  it 
out  some  dark  night  and  you  wouldn't  like  to 
lose  that  defense  plan/' 

"I  always  button  it  inside  when  I  buckle  on 
my  sword  belt/'  said  Barriger.  "Then  it 
can't  work  out.  Besides,  I  know  it  all  by 
heart,  and  can  put  every  company  just  where 
it  belongs.  Let's  see,"  and  he  began  to  tell 
them  off.  "First  Brigade,  First  Battalion, 
Washingtons.  from  tobacco  warehouse  march 
to  Paco  Bridge.  Second  Battalion,  Bishop's 
Palace,  cross  bridge  into  East  Paco,  mass  in 
churchyard.  Third  Battalion,  with  brigade 
commander.  Block  House  ii.  First  Idaho,  six 
companies,  march  to  Paco  Bridge,  two  com- 
panies Malate,  local  guards.  Both  batteries  to 
Paco  cemetery  and  await  orders.  Cavalry  to 
maintain  order  in  town.  Mounted  patrol 
through  suburbs.  Second  Brigade,  Four- 
teenth, at  Singalon  front.  North  Dakotas  hold 
Malate  front — " 


DOVt;   COTE   DAYS.  Ij:! 

"Well,  that's  ajl  very  well."  said  Adair. 
"What  I'm  thinking  of  is  its  falling  into  native 
hands.  They  can  have  it  translated  easy 
enough.     Where  do  you  keep  it  at  night?" 

"With  my  pistol  under  my  pillow.  Hullo! 
There's  a  fire!" 

Springing  to  their  feet  and  leaning  out  over 
the  garden  they  could  hear  shouting  to  the 
S(mthward  and  the  rapid  clang  of  a  church  bell, 
ringing  after  the  American  village  fashion  in 
rapid  alarm.  Sentries  had  by  this  time  been 
forbidden  to  shoot — the  customary  garrison 
alarm — for  the  frail  bamboo  and  nipa  huts 
were  forever  taking  fire,  and  hardly  a  night 
passed  without  a  blaze  somewhere  about 
Manila.  The  rising  glare  showed  it  to  be 
toward  the  Cuartel  de  Malate.  and  with  hasty 
adieu  Adair  sprang  down  the  steps  to  join  his 
troo}).  In  ten  minutes  the  tire  had  practically 
burned  itself  out  and  in  twenty  all  was  still 
again.  Before  midnight  the  dove-cote  was 
dark  and  silent:  Barriger's  little  household 
had  sought  their  pillows.  .\n  hour  later  came 
a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  a  banging  at  the  barred 
doors  below.  Mr.  Barriger  was  wanted  at  di- 
vision headquarters  at  once.     The  orderly  had 


1^6  DOVE   COTE   DA  VS. 

broug-ht  a  spare  horse.  Kit  clung-  to  him  tear- 
fully as  he  buckled  on  his  revolver,  and  col- 
lapsed in  her  sister's  arms  when  he  galloped 
away.  For  half  an  hour  they  watched  and 
hstened  on  the  front  gallery,  but  even  the  snarl- 
ing native  dogs  were  still.  The  night  was 
without  a  sound.  At  one  o'clock  Constance 
saw  the  little  matron  once  more  snugly  stowed 
in  bed  and  soon  dozing  off  to  sleep. 

Less  than  an  hour  later  she  was  aroused  by 
an  awful,  agonized,  terrible  scream.  Spring- 
ing from  her  own  bed  and  seizing  a  pretty 
nickel-plated  revolver,  barefooted  as  she  was, 
Constance  darted  through  the  darkness  to 
Kitty's  room.  Striking  a  light,  she  found  her 
sobbing  and  shivering  by  the  bedside,  her 
M'^atch,  her  locket  and  one  ring  gone,  also  a 
little  sum  of  money  from  the  bureau  drawer. 
All  she  could  tell  was  that  a  stealthy  tugging 
at  her  finger  had  suddenly  aroused  her.  Then 
a  hand  had  been  spread  over  her  mouth,  and 
with  one  desperate  effort  she  had  hurled  it  off 
and  screamed  for  help.  A  dark  figure  had 
bounded  out  of  the  side  window.  Then  came 
Constance  within  and  the  rush  of  the  guard 
without. 


DOVK   COTE   DAYS.  1^7 

Some  of  these  latter  were  still  searching 
about  the  premises  when  Barriger  came  gallop- 
ing- back  full  speed,  threw  himself  from  the 
saddle  and  rushed  upstairs.  One  glance  told 
him  what  had  occurred.  One  glance  told  Con- 
stance there  was  something  worse  than-^they 
had  yet  discovered.  He  took  his  wife  in  his 
arms,  but  his  eyes  summoned  her  sister  and  his 
white  lips  framed  the  question  :  "That  pocket- 
book — with  the  papers — is  that  safe?" 

The  Russia  leather  case  was  gone ! 

One  week  later  Ypolito.  who,  the  night  of  the 
robbery,  had  been  found  by  the  searching  guard 
to  be  placidly  sleeping  in  his  own  particular 
dove-cote  at  the  rear,  announced  with  tears 
that  his  brother  had  succumbed  to  his  long  ill- 
ness and  was  to  be  buried  forthwith.  He  de- 
sired a  day  in  which  to  pay  his  last  homage, 
another  in  which  to  bedew  his  grave  with  tears. 
He  would  then  return.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  concern  with  which  he  and  Manuel  had 
heard  the  recital  of  that  robl)ery.  Nothing 
could  exceed  the  zeal  with  which  they  had 
joined  in  the  search.  Little  Carmencita  was 
inconsolable.  Captain  Vsidro  Medina  called 
twice  to  ])resent  his  fluent  compliments  and  to 


138  DOVE   COTK    DAYS. 

tender  his  services,  to  place  his  heart  at  the  feet 
of  the  ladies,  to  pray  them  to  be  tranquil.  The 
bosom  of  the  Fili])ino  heaved  with  abhorrence 
at  the  outrage  to  which  they  had  been  sub- 
jected, and  never  would  he  rest  until  he  should 
discover  the  thief,  recover  the  ravished  gems 
and  lay  them.  v.  ith  the  ears  of  the  perpetrator 
— and  again  his  heart  of  hearts — at  the  feet 
aforementioned. 

Ten  days  later,  one  lovely  starlit  February 
evening,  on  a  sudden  the  bugles  rang  all  over 
Manila  and  a  crackling  flame  encompassed  it 
round  about.  The  storm  had  burst  and  Aguin- 
aldo's  army  leaped  to  the  assault  of  the  thin, 
unsheltered  lines  in  blue.  With  half  his  little 
force  far  extended  on  the  fighting  front,  the 
American  leader  contested  the  ground  from 
without.  With  the  other  half  dispersed  in 
small  detachments  over  the  wide  area  of  the 
city  and  suburbs,  he  watched  for  the  threatened 
uprising  within.  Along  the  river  front 
launches,  cascos,  even  slim,  canoe-shaped  ban- 
cas,  were  filled  with  pallid,  silent  women  and 
children,  the  families  of  American  and  foreign 
residents,  who  were  hurried  out  to  the  fleet  of 
transports  in  the  bay.     But  at  half-past  ten, 


DOVE   COTE   DAYS.  139 

nearly  an  hour  alter  the  alarm  had  sounded, 
the  sisters  still  clung  to  each  other  in  the  dark- 
ened dove-cote  alone — just  one  American  sen- 
try on  the  pavement  helow  to  interpose  between 
them  and  the  rage  (jf  a  thousanil  natives  should 
the  Tagals  rise. 

Obedient  to  some  signal  from  the  flagship, 
just  at  sunset,  the  Biltmore  had  steamed  away 
toward  old  Cavite.  Xo  rescuing  boat  appeared 
upon  the  face  ui  the  waters.  Barriger  had 
been  summoned  to  his  guns  at  four  o'clock  and 
was  even  now  thundering  away  somewhere  out 
<  'U  the  threatened  front.  Adair,  with  his  troop, 
had  been  scouting  on  the  northern  side  ever 
since  the  previous  day.  Every  mun  in  iNlanila 
had  his  work  cut  out  for  him  and  the  sisters 
were  practically  neglected.  At  half-past  ten, 
as  the  sullen  boom  of  the  distant  cannon  told 
that  it  was  no  casual  skirmish,  but  an  attack  in 
force.'  Kitty  knelt,  shivering,  with  her  fair  head 
pillowed  in  her  sister's  lap.  while  Constance, 
facing  the  door,  sat  with  her  finger  on  the  trig- 
ger of  Adair's  Christmas  present.  And  so  she 
sat  as  through  the  darkness  two  white-robed 
form?  stole  noiselessly  up  the  spiral  stairs,  and 
through  the  gloom  the  <l'!<l<.\vv  ^nrctrt's  came 


I40  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

gliding  over  the  polished  hardwood  floor  until, 
not  five  yards  away,  the  straining  eyes  of  Con- 
stance made  them  out.  and  without  a  tremor  in 
her  tone  she  challenged,  "Who  is  there?" 

The  answer  was  a  laugh,  the  snap  of  a 
parlor  match,  the  touch  of  the  flame  to  a  kero- 
sene lamp,  and  there  in  the  gloom,  grinning, 
stood  Manuel  with  gleaming  knife  in  hand, 
while  Ypolito,  the  saintly,  the  sorrow-stricken, 
with  a  grin  upon  his  black  face,  advanced  upon 
them,  his  blinking  eyes  fixed  on  Kitty's  jew^eled 
hands,  his  long  brown  fingers  clutching.  Her 
scream  of  terror  rang  out  on  the  night,  accom- 
panied by  the  instant  bang  of  the  revolver,  a 
yell  of  dismay  from  within,  a  shout  of  alarm 
from  without,  then  a  rush  and  scurry  of  feet, 
a  battering  at  the  door  below,  a  clattering  up 
the  stairs  as  of  spurred  heels,  a  dash  to  the 
window  of  flitting  ghosts.  All  on  a  sudden  the 
situation  changed,  and  while  two  or  'three 
troopers  hurled  themselves  through  the  rooms 
and  over  the  sills  in  pursuit,  Dave  Adair, 
breathless  but  glowing,  bounded  forward. 

"You  are  safe?  You  are  unharmed?"  he 
cried.     "Oh,  thank  God  for  that!" 

And  God's  mercy  it  was  that  led  him  in  the 


\\  III  \  <  111  I 


I  .i>t  \  ■  Ml  r  ^111  !■  ■  nil       .1 1'  III 


DOVE  COTE  DAYS.  I4I 

nick  of  time,  not  to  the  fn-nt  entrance,  which 
was  heavily    barred,    but.    with    a  launch  bor- 
rowed from  the  captain  of  the  port,  to  the  shoal 
water  at  the  rear.     There  was  no  time  to  lose. 
He  and  his  men  were  needed  at  the  front.    The 
doors    were   unbarred.      A    brace   of    prOvost 
guardsmen    hurried    uj)    from    below    to    take 
charge  of  the   premises,    and    then    the  sisters 
were  led  down  through  the  gardens  to  the  steps 
of  the  sea  wall.     There,  fifty  yards  away,  the 
night  lights  of  the  Ceres  were  dancing  on  the 
tide.     Thither,    "cat's    cradled."    two    sturdy 
troopers  splashing  waist  deep  b<:ire  Kitty,  still 
tremulous  with  fright,  leaving  Adair  and  Con- 
stance for  the  moment  at  the  steps.     Out  on 
the  Calle  San  Jose  a  cavalry  trumpet  sounded 
a  sudden  peal — a  quick,  imperative  summons. 
"They  are  calling  me,  Constance,"  he  mur- 
mured.    "W'e    are    needed,    and    go    I    must. 
Quick!     Will    you    trust    y.-nrsplf    t.  •    mc — 
alone?" 

She  was  standing  on  the  second  step,  he  up- 
on the  strand.  Her  answer  was  to  look  down 
in  his  upturned  face,  then  to  place  her  white 
hand  ui)on  his  shoulder.      Instantly  his  left  arm 


14-  DOVE   COTE   DAYS. 

circled  about  her  knees,  his  right  arm  about  her 
waist,  and  swept  her  from  her  feet.  The 
slender  white  hand  stole  about  his  neck,  her 
head  sank  almost  to  his  shoulder  and  without 
a  word,  but  with  his  heart  hammering  in  his 
breast,  he  plunged  into  the  sea.  \\'ith  long, 
sweeping  strides  he  bore  his  precious  burden 
deeper,  deeper  into  the  foaming  waters.  The 
little  surges  lapped  his  knees,  his  waist,  and  he 
raised  her  higher,  drawing  her  yet  closer  to  his 
breast,  lest  the  water  should  reach  her  feet. 
Ten  paces  from  the  dancing  craft  his  troopers 
met  him  and  sought  to  aid.  "No ;  hurry  to 
your  horses!  Say  I'll  be  there  in  a  moment," 
were  his  impatient  orders.  And  then  for  one 
blessed  moment  she  was  his — alone ;  and  her 
lovely  face,  upturned,  lay  so  close,  so  close  to 
his !  The  warm  breath  from  her  parted  lips 
fanned  his  rough,  unshaven  cheek. 

With  sudden  impulse  he  bowed  his  head. 

*Tf  it  is  the  last  word  I  ever  say,  Constance, 
I  love  you — I  have  loved  you  ever  since  you 
came."  he  murmured.  "God  grant  1  may  say 
it  again  to-morrow!" 

One  instant  of  silence,  then  a  tightening  of 


DOVE    COTK   DAYS.  1 43 

the  clasp  ah(mt  his  neck,  a  murniur  soft  as  that 
of  the  siininier  sea  about  them. 
"Amen — David." 

When  the  guns  had  done  their  work  from 
Battery  Knoll  next  day,  and  with  bated  breath 
Sam  Barriger  stood  in  the  drifting  smoke  and 
watched  the  fierce  rush  of  the  brigade,  he  saw- 
soon  the  stretcher  bearers  trudging  back  with 
their  burdens,  the  sorely  wounded,  and  mar- 
veled at  their  number.  A  staff  tjfficer  came 
galloping  over  from  the  highway,  a  flat,  red 
Russia  leather  pocket-case  in  his  hand  which  he 
waved  triumphantly  aloft,  then  tossed  to  Sam. 
"Where  was  it? — where'd  you  find  it?"  was 
the  eager  i|uestion. 

"1  didn't.  It  was  Adair.  He  shot  that  fel- 
low Medina,  of  Pilar's  staff.     He  had  it. 

"You're  entitled  to  two  hundred  dollars, 
Me.\.,  and  no  (juestions  asked.  Adair,"  laughed 
Barriger.  ten  minutes  later,  grasping  the  ex- 
tendetl  hand  of  his  comrade  in  both  his  own  and 
looking  up  with  shining  eyes,  "to  say  nothing 
of  all  I  owe  you  for — last  night.  How'll  von 
have  it?" 


1 44  DONE    COTE  DAYS. 

Adair  bent  low  in  saddle,  his  own  eyes  kind- 
ling. 

"You  might  put  it — in  a  wedding  gift, 
Sam."  he  said. 

The  hand  clasped  tightly. 

"You're  the  luckiest  man,  and  she's  the  best, 
the  dearest  woman  that  ever  lived — except 
one." 


He  broke  from  rluni  to  clasj)  Ktlicl  in  his  arms. 


A  RIVAL  ALLY. 


They  had  met  fur  ilie  first  time  at  the 
grounds  of  the  Tennis  Chih  beyond  the  Calle 
Marcel ino — she  a  thorough-going  Enghsh  girl 
much  given  to  open-air  Hfe  with  concomitant 
heahh  and  freckles ;  he  an  Ensign  of  His  Maj- 
esty Uncle  Sam's  warship  Biltmore.  doing  duty 
in  Manila  Bay,  and  the  devoted  to  every  reach- 
able pretty  girl  in  Manila-  balconies.  Many 
were  i)retty,  but  few  reachable.  Belles  of  the 
Spanish  i)ersuasi('n  had  remained  in  haughty 
seclusion  ever  since  the  first  of  May,  when  their 
flag  had  gone  down  in  smoke  and  flame  off 
Cavite.  American  girls  were  only  just  begin- 
ning tf)  arrive  and  turn  the  heads  of  all  manner 
of  men.  and  even  those  of  the  disdainful  daugh- 
ters of  Castile  and  Aragon.  who  gazed  in  wist- 
ful longing  at  tb.c  dainty  toilettes  appearing 
every  evening  on  the  Luneta.  English,  French 
an<l  Fili|)ino  girls  there  were,  most  of  whom 


146  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

were  born  111)011  the  island  and  knew  no  other 
clime  than  that  of  Luzon.  Middies  from  the 
broad  decks  of  H.  M.  S.  Wonderful,  and 
young  swells  from  the  wardroom  and  steerage 
messes  of  the  French  Jean  Baptiste  and  the 
German  Hohenfriedwurst  were  much  in  evi- 
dence, in  their  natt}'  white  summer  dress,  every 
tennis  afternoon,  but  Yankees  had  been  few 
and  far  l)etween — something  was  always  going 
on  to  keep  them  going  off — expeditions  to 
Negros,  Hoik)  or  Cebu — mysterious  missions 
along  the  vague,  lightless  coast ;  landing  parties 
hither  and  yon  in  search  of  contrabands  of  war 
alleged  to  be  ever  slipping  in  from  Hongkong 
or  Shanghai,  Yokohama  or  Nagasaki.  Among 
men  their  absence  was  not  much  regretted,  for, 
having  but  recently  blow-n  IMontojo's  fleet  to 
flinders,  the  Yankees  were  necessarily  interest- 
ing, and,  being  by  far  the  best  dancers  on  tiie 
station,  were  correspondingly  first  favorites 
with  the  women  folk.  The  English  Club  had 
opened  its  doors  to  them,  but  held  it  bad  form 
for  girls  to  open  their  arms  even  to  the  extent 
of  an  innocent  valse,  a  thing  the  average 
Briton  could  only  execute  in  one  way,  or  a 
catchy  two-step,  which  he  couldn't  do  at  all.    It 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  147 

SO  happened,  therefore,  that  Ensign  Percy 
Breese  was  looked  to  l)e  in  big  luck  when  sent 
ashore  for  a  month  of  some  duty  in  or  about 
the  busy  office  of  the  Captain  of  the  Port.  Life 
aboard  ship,  even  in  December,  was  something 
of  a  broil,  despite  electric  fans  and  cooling 
shower-baths.  The  sun  beat  untempered  on 
the  armored  sides,  even  though  awnings 
shielded  the  crowded  decks,  and  ships'  interiors 
were  ovenlike  in  temperature,  and  men  grew 
curt  in  speech,  intolerant  of  differing  views  and 
irascible  at  opposition.  It  was  the  opinion  of 
his  fellows  of  the  flagship  that  "Breezy"  had 
been  chosen  for  this  particular  duty  because  of 
an  equanimity  of  temperament  that  had  stood 
proof  against  a  'tween-decks  temperature, 
whereas  his  messmates  on  the  cruiser  swore  it 
was  all  along  of  "Breezy's"  cheek — he  was  no 
better  natured  than  the  rest  of  them,  only  he 
looked  it. 

At  all  events,  here  he  was  "gettin'  shore  duty 
on  sea  pay."  said  an  envious  brother-in-arms 
who  loved  the  epigrammatic  even  at  the  ex- 
pense of  veracity,  and  Bob  Bruce,  of  the  Hong 
Kong  and  Shanghai  Bank,  had  taken  a  liking 
to  the  blithe  young  fellow,  and  later  took  the 


148  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

young  Ensign  himself  to  the  tennis  court  and 
presented  him  to  the  maids  and  matrons  there 
assembled,  among  others  to  Miss  Ethel  Wins- 
ton, in  whom  was  centered  Mr.  Bruce's  uni- 
verse. This  proceeding,  said  Bruce's  crony — 
one  of  the  invaluable,  if  unvalued,  class  of 
friends  ever  ready  to  tell  us  the  truth  about  our- 
selves,— was  as  asinine  a  thing  as  even  Bruce 
could  have  done.  This  was  strong  language, 
but  not  entirely  unjustifiable. 

Bruce  was  summoned  over  to  Hong  Kong 
soon  after  Christmas  and  left  the  Ensign  taking 
tennis  lessons  of  Miss  Ethel.  He  was  gone 
only  as  long  as  the  Esmeralda's  round  trip,  ten 
days  or  so,  but  when  he  returned  Breese  had 
become  tutor  and  Ethel  Winston  pupil.  The 
game  was  no  longer  tennis — it  had  turned  to 
hearts. 

In  justice  to  Breese  it  must  be  said  at  once 
that  he  had  no  knowledge  of  Bruce's  hopes  or 
intentions,  but  could  as  much  be  said  of  Miss 
Winston?  Probably  not.  Few  girls  are  so 
blind  as  not  to  see  when  a  man  is  really  in  love. 
Some  are  gifted  with  such  keenness  of  vision 
as  to  see  it  before  the  man  himself,  while  an 
irrational  few  can  discover  evidences  of  a  ten- 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  149 

der  passion  where  its  absence  is  not  even  a 
matter  of  doubt.  Miss  Winston  well  knew 
that  big  Bob  Bruce  was  ready  to  place  his 
broad  hand,  honest  heart  and  solid  bank  ac- 
count at  her  service.  She  well  know  that  a 
little  encouragement  would  precipitate  prompt 
avowal,  but  up  to  the  time  when  Breese  was 
blown  across  her  path  she  couldn't  see  her  way 
to  holding  out  a  hope,  and  after  that  she 
wouldn't. 

Perhaps  it  was  as  much  because  the  women 
took  sides  with  Bruce  against  Breese  that  her 
sym[)athies  were  enlisted  for  the  latter.  Even 
girls  who  were  secretly  glad  she  didn't  want 
Bruce,  and  thereby  left  him  in  the  market,  de- 
clared her  conduct  heartless.  There  were 
barely  half  a  dozen  in  English-speaking  Manila 
society  at  the  time,  to  be  sure,  and  there  were 
many  more  men  than  women.  Therefore,  said 
the  matrons,  it  was  bad  judgment  on  the  part 
of  Bruce  to  bring  in  a  rank  outsider  who  had 
good  looks  and  good  manners,  but  neither 
money  nor  prosi)ects  outside  of  his  uniform — 
the  very  kind  of  man  a  girl  should  not  succumb 
to.  and  the  very  kind  she  so  often  does.  Be- 
yond doubt,  had  Miss  Winston's  parents  been 


150  A    RIVAL    ALLY. 

alive  to  her  predilecticjii  they  would  have 
brought  her  to  her  senses  and  back  to  Hong 
Kong,  but  Miss  Winston's  father  had  died  long 
years  before,  leading  his  Tommies  in  a  daring 
dash  on  the  mountain  tribesmen  of  the  border, 
and  his  disconsolate  but  charming  widow  had 
eventually  remarried. 

Miss  Winston  was  mistress  of  her  own 
means,  which  were  sufficient,  if  not  super- 
abundant. Pier  stepfather  was  not  altogether 
to  her  liking.  He  had  w^ealth,  a  hearty  ap- 
petite, and  entire  willingness  that  the  lovely 
daughter  of  his  lovely  wife  should  speedily  find 
*a  mate  of  her  own,  and  to  this  end,  knowing 
Bruce  and  Bruce's  prospects,  had  rather  strenu- 
ously urged  upon  his  better  half  the  advantage 
to  accrue  in  accepting  the  invitation  of  Mrs. 
Bryce-Foster  that  Ethel  should  spend  a  few 
weeks  with  her  in  Manila.  The  war  between 
Spain  and  the  Americans  was  over.  Business 
was  brisk.  The  city  was  crowded  with  Ameri- 
cans, to  be  sure,  and  some  few  of  them  weren't 
half  bad.  Mrs.  Bryce-Foster  had  spent  a  fort- 
night at  the  Hong.  Her  husband  was  one  of 
the  heaviest  customers  of  the  great  banking 
corporation.    Ethel  went,  glad  of  a  change,  and 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  I5I 

witli  no  idea  how  marvelous  that  change  would 
he.  She  had  known  Bob  Bruce  two  years  and 
couldn't  love  him ;  she  iind  known  Percy 
Breese  only  two  weeks — and  couldn't  help  it. 
It  was  the  quickest  thing  that  season,  said  the 
men  who  saw  it,  and  a  feeling  grew  up  against 
Breese.  especially  after  Bruce  came  back  and 
f(-und  himself  supplanted. 

Big  Bob  took  it  very  much  to  heart.  You 
couldn't  blame  him.  He  had  long  loved  this 
winsome  English  girl.  He  could  give  her  as 
charming  a  home  and  as  complete  an  establish- 
ment as  could  l)e  found  in  all  the  fair  suburbs 
of  Manila,  and  Percy  Breese  hadn't  a  stiver 
outside  his  pay,  and  didn't  hesitate  to  say  so. 
But  B.)b  was  manful  alx>ut  it  and  made  no 
moan.  It  was  Mrs.  Bryce- Foster  who  made 
Plthel's  life  a  burden.  She  raged  in  her  heart 
at  the  failure  of  a  cherished  plan.  She  had  set 
that  heart  on  a  match  between  the  girl  and  that 
big.  burly,  whole-souled  fellow  who  seemed  so 
thoroughly  at  home  in  boating  or  cricket  cos- 
tume: so  utterly  at  sea  in  a  parlor.  ''Bob  has 
t'">o  big  a  heart  for  the  business"  was  the  only 
thing  his  superiors  could  say  to  his  detriment, 
and  there  was  no  doubt  the  big  heart  was  sorely 


152  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

wounded  now.  'i'lic  women  said  Ethel  Wins- 
ton had  cnconraged  him  in  every  way,  which 
wasn't  true  and  Mrs.  Bryce-Foster  knew  it 
wasn't  true,  yet  dinned  it  into  Ethel's  ears  day 
after  day,  to  the  end  that  the  girl  begged  hard 
to  be  sent  back  to  Hong  Kong,  and  nearly  cried 
her  eyes  out  when  told  that  she  must  stay  until 
sent  for,  like  some  obsolete  bit  of  household 
furniture  for  which  no  place  was  held  at  home. 
WHiat  made  matters  immeasurably  worse 
was  that  Mrs.  Bryce-Foster  turned  her  vi3cal 
guns  on  the  dashing  Ensign.  I  think  the  only 
reason  she  did  not  forbid  him  the  house  was 
that  then  she  would  have  lost  the  joy  of  be- 
rating him.  And  Percy  Breese,  who,  said  she, 
should  in  all  conscience  have  resented  her 
words  and  proudly  withdrawn  and  refused  to 
set  foot  within  her  doors  again,  did  nothing  of 
the  kind.  Like  a  little  man  he  stood  by  his 
sweetheart.  "I'd  take  the  double  of  it  all,"  he 
simply  said,  ''if  I  thought  she  would  spare 
you."  And  then  he  bent  and  tenderly  kissed 
the  red  and  swollen  eyelids  and  a  very  pretty, 
pathetic  little  rosy  mouth,  and  comforted  her 
infinitely,  though  she  really  couldn't  say  why. 
The  outlook  was  just  as  blank  as  ever,  yet  with 


A    RIVAL   ALLY. 


OJ 


Percy  l^y  her  sitle.  and  so  fond  and  so  good  to 
look  at.  uulI  so  sympathetic  and  caressing,  she 
couldn't  feel  utterly  miserable,  as  she  knew  she 
ought  to  feel  for  all  the  troubles  she  had  caused. 

But  this  state  of  things  couldn't  last,  and 
Breese  knew  it.  He  had  written  to  the  com- 
mercial magnate  at  Hong  Kong,  apprising  him 
of  his  love  for  Miss  Winston  and  of  their  plea 
for  his  and  her  mother's  consent  and  blessing. 
1  le  had  met  Bruce  twice  and  met  him  fairly  and 
squarely — rather  a  difficult  thing  to  do  when  a 
rival  has  not  formally  declared  himself,  if  in- 
deed it  be  not  trying  at  any  time.  The  two 
had  even  shaken  hands,  for  Bruce  loved  fair 
play,  and  how  was  Breese  to  know',  he  asked 
himself,  timt  he  cared  so  much  for  Ethel  Wins- 
ton? All  the  same,  Bob  couldn't  be  congratu- 
latory ujx^n  Breese's  apparent  success,  and  he 
was  not. 

"I  had  no  idea — of — interfering  with — any- 
body, you  know.  Bruce."  .said  Percy.  "It  all 
came  about  so  sudden."  Whereat  Bruce 
drojJi)ed  his  monocle  and  looked  vacant  and 
dazed  a  numient:  then  submitted  the  sudden 
and  irrelevant  (|uery :  "D'you  ever  peg?" 
which  being  interpreted  meant  would   Breese 


154  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

have  some  Scotch  and  soda,  a  thing  Breese 
hated,  yet  took  witli  alacrity — some  form  of 
atonement  and  sacrifice  seeming  appropriate  to 
the  occasion. 

"Look  me  iij),  you  know,  whenever  1  can  be 
of  any  service."  said  Bob,  and  the  two  shook 
hands  and  parted,  each  in  his  own  way  thank- 
ing God  the  thing  was  over.  Breese  drew  a 
long  brenth  the  moment  he  reached  tlie  open 
street,  jumped  into  the  waiting  carouiatta  and 
bade  the  driver  speed  to  the  Luneta.  where  she 
would  be  sure  to  appear  by  the  side  of  her  host- 
ess in  the  invariable  evening  drive  along  the 
bay,  the  one  open-air  recreation  known  to  cos- 
mopolite Manila. 

"I  hope  to  Heaven  I'll  never  have  to  look  him 
up,  good  fellow  though  he  is."  muttered  the 
Ensign  to  himself,  mopping  his  wet  forehead 
as  the  sturdy  little  pony  darted  away  with  the 
high-wheeled,  covered  cart.'  The  situation  and 
the  Scotch  combined  had  started  the  perspira- 
tion from  every  pore.  "The  idea  of  having  to 
look  up  a  fellow  when  you've — "  But  Mr. 
Breese  couldn't  find  words  in  which  to  finish 
the  sentence.  No !  He  distinctly  wished  he 
might   never   have   to    see  Bob   Bruce   again, 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  1  55 

which  was  most  ungrateful  when  you  remem- 
ber that  it  was  Bob  who  introduced  him  to  his 
sweetheart,  now  anxiously  peering  at  every 
passing  cab  and  carriage  in  hopes  of  seeing 
and  signaling  to  Percy  Breese.  She  had  need 
to  speak  with  him. 

They  met  at  last.  The  band  of  the  Twenty- 
third  Infantry  was  playing  delightfully  at  the 
kiosk.  The  parallel  roads  on  either  side  were 
blocked  with  carriages  of  all  kinds  known  to 
Manila.  The  walks  were  crowded  with  offi- 
cers and  soldiers  in  cool  unifonns.  The  sun 
had  sunk  to  rest  beyond  Cavite.  The  electric 
lights  were  beginning  to  sputter  and  flash  all 
along  the  famous  drive,  and  to  sparkle  from 
the  decks  of  a  score  of  transports  and  warships 
anchored  on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  bay. 
.\long  the  curb  and  about  each  carriage-load 
of  women.  English  or  American,  were  little 
groups  of  officers  and  civilians  of  their  race, 
and  their  merry  chat  and  laughter  made  marked 
contrast  with  the  silence  that  hovered  every- 
where over  the  Spanish  or  native  occupants  of 
similar  vehicles. 

Disquieting  rumors  were  afloat.  The  Fili- 
pino leaders,  despairing  of  winning  control  of 


156  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

Manila  and  the  island  in  any  other  way,  had 
planned  a  general  uprising  of  the  populace 
within  the  old  walled  city  and  throughout  the 
surrounding  districts  and  suburbs,  some  of 
them  teeming  with  insurgent  families.  A  gen- 
eral massacre  of  Americans  had  been  decreed 
and  planned.  It  was  even  hinted  that  no  man 
of  foreign  birth  would  be  spared,  and  English 
residents,  long  habituated  to  the  fitful  changes 
in  the  political  sky,  found  reason  to  look  grave 
and  concerned  when  chatting  in  low  tones 
among  themselves.  It  was  known  that  the  in- 
surgent army  now  encircling  Manila  had  with- 
in a  day  or  two  turned  back  all  American  offi- 
cers who  had  essayed  to  ride  or  drive  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  city,  that  earthworks  and  en- 
trenchments were  being  thrown  up  every- 
wdiere,  and  Krupp  guns  trained  on  the  block- 
houses occupied  by  American  soldiery.  The 
clash  was  sure  to  come.  The  question  was 
how  and  when. 

As  the  brief  twilight  of  the  tropics  faded 
swiftly  into  night,  the  eyes  of  all  men  seemed 
to  turn  seaward,  for,  early  though  it  was,  the 
flagship  off  the  mole  and  the  fleet  across  the 
bay  at  Cavite  were  exchanging  rapid  signals. 


A    RIVAL   ALl.V.  I  57 

The  brilliant  red  and  green  and  wliite  lights 
flashed  in  (|uick  succession.  The  band,  having 
carried  out  its  program,  struck  up  the  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,  whereat  every  soldier  in  the 
garb  of  Uncle  Sam  whipped  off  his  headgear 
and  sprang  to  attention,  while  sympathetic 
Britons  lifted  their  hats.  Only  Spaniards  and 
Filipinos  remained  sitting  and  smoking  in  sul- 
len disregard.  The  strain  ceased :  the  band 
crime  scuttling  down  out  of  its  kiosk  and 
sprinted  back  to  (juarters.  The  crowd  began  to 
scatter,  the  throng  of  carriages  whirled  away, 
and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  Mr.  Breese  had  sprung 
from  his  two-wheeler  and  was  eagerly  and  in 
low  tone  talking  with  Miss  Ethel,  while  a 
comrade  engrossed  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Bryce- 
Foster.  \\niatever  his  quest  or  proposition,  it 
failed,  for  the  girl  sadly  shook  her  head  and 
Breese  intently  listened  as  she  bent  and  hur- 
riedly whispered  : 

"What  arc  we  to  do.  Percy?  She  has  ac- 
ce{)ted  the  MacLeans'  invitation.  We  move 
out  to  Santa  Ana  to-morrow." 

The  lad's  face  fell.  Whether  it  meant  that 
Mrs.  Bryce-Foster  stood  in  dread  of  the  pre- 
dicted outbreak  and  wished  to  seek  a  place  of 


158  A    RIVAL   ALLV. 

safety,  or  whether  it  was  only  a  scheme  to  break 
off  their  intercourse,  the  proposed  move  prom- 
ised to  be  effectual.  Santa  Ana  lay  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Pasig,  less  than  a  mile  beyond 
the  dividing-line  between  the  territory  occupied 
by  the  American  garrison  of  Manila  and  that 
of  the  encircling  insurgents.  It  was  the  head- 
quarters of  Ricarte's  brigade  of  the  insurgent 
army.  Their  Krupp  guns,  captured  from  the 
Spaniards,  were  trained  on  the  flimsy  wooden 
blockhouses  occupied  by  the  Americans,  and 
their  outposts  were  distributed  in  force  all 
along  the  winding  estuary  of  the  Concordia 
and  the  Tripa  de  Gallina. 

Across  the  Concordia  bridge  on  the  Santa 
Ana  road,  across  that  narrow  stream  or  farther 
up  the  Pasig  than  the  mouth  of  the  cstcro,  no 
Americans  now  could  \enture.  Leveled  bayonets 
and  stern  commands  to  return  rewarded  every 
attempt,  even  while  the  insurgents  demanded 
— and,  odd  as  it  may  seem,  were  accorded — the 
right  to  wander  at  will  within  the  lines  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  Breese  saw  in  a  glance  that 
the  move  to  Santa  Ana  was  a  menace  to  their 
future  meetings,  and  yet  he  did  not  despair. 
Had  not  Pio  del  Pilar  assured  the  English  resi- 


A    RIVAL    ALLV.  159 

dents  of  Santa  Ana  that  Ricarte's  men  were 
ordered  to  show  them  every  courtesy  and  at  no 
time  to  impede  their  coming  or  their  going? 
Would  not  civihan  garh  and  a  monocle  trans- 
form our  Ensign  into  a  very  presentable,  or  at 
least  passable,  young  Briton?  He  tried  it.  un- 
beknown to  the  Captain  of  the  Port,  one  bright 
January  aftermton.  driving  out  in  MacLean's 
victoria,  whirling  unopposed  past  the  American 
sentries  at  the  west  end  of  the  Concordia  bridge 
and  the  Filipino  guards  at  the  other.  He  tried 
it  a  second  time,  and  again  with  success  and 
subse(;ucnt  bliss,  for  Mrs.  Bryce-Foster  could 
not  openly  assail  him  in  presence  of  her  host- 
ess, and  did  not,  at  least,  prevent  his  having  a 
sweet,  whispered  tctc-a-tctc  with  his  lady-love 
in  the  garden  while  the  Yankee  bugles  at  Paco 
were  sounding  tattoo  and  their  signal  for 
'Lights  out." 

Then  he  tried  it  a  third  time  and  on  the  third 
of  February,  and  there  were  evidences  of  ex- 
citement and  stir  everywhere  at  the  front. 
Whole  battalions  of  blue-shirted  infantry 
stood  silently  leaning  on  their  arms  along  the 
Calle  Re^l  and  the  guards  at  Blockhouse  No. 
1 1    were  doubled.     So.   too.   he   found  strong 


l6o  A   RIVAL   ALLY. 

detachments  of  swarthy  Filipinos  along  the 
highway  across  the  stream,  and  the  plaza  in 
Santa  Ana  was  crowded,  but  their  officers  still 
touched  their  broad-brimmed  straw  hats  re- 
spectfully to  his  host,  even  though  some  of  their 
number  eyed  his  young  companion  suspiciously. 
"They're  catching  on  to  you,  Breese,  as  you 
Yankees  say,"  said  MacLean.  "I  fancy  you'd 
l^etter  not  try  it  again." 

But  he  did  try  it  again,  for  the  next  was 
Saturday  evening  and  the  Captain  of  the  Port 
went  out  to  dine  on  the  Olympia,  and  Breese 
got  away  soon  after  five  and  caught  his  host 
at  the  English  Club  away  down  in  Ermita. 
MacLean  looked  grave. 

"I  really  think  you'd  better  not  risk  it, 
Breese,"  he  said.  "Little  Sandoval,  Ricarte's 
aide-de-camp,  told  me  this  morning  they  knew 
you  were  an  American,  but  wouldn't  interfere 
so  long  as  there  w^ere  no  hostilities,  but  any 
moment  now  they  may  break  out.  I — I  wish 
you  wouldn't." 

"I  won't,  if  you  say  so — after  to-night,"  was 
the  answer;  "but  I  must  see  her  for  a  few  min- 
utes, just  because  the  thing  is  so  sure  to  come 
to  a  head.     Then,  of  course,  I'll  have  to  be  at 


A    KIVAL    ALLY.  l6l 

my  station.  It  woiiUl  mean  court-martial  if  I 
wasn't,  for.  of  course,  the  Captain  doesn't 
know  t>f  my  running  it  out  to  Santa  Ana  in 
plain  clotiies." 

"It  will  mean  something  worse  than  court- 
martial  if  they  catch  you  on  the  Santa  Ana 
side.  Th.ere's  g<-»ing  to  be  no  end  of  a  fight 
at  that  bridge,  and  your  fellows  won't  get  it 
for  nothing,  let  me  tell  you.  T  know  these  little 
brown  men,  and  know  how  game  they  are. 
Indeed.  Breese,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  come — to- 
night." 

But  the  Ensign  was  too  deeply  in  love  to  be 
reasonable.  He  went,  was  again  passed  by  the 
guards  and  patrols  along  the  Filipino  side  in 
deference  to  his  friend  and  conductor.  They 
dined  in  some  anxiety,  for  strong  battalions  of 
insurgents  had  marched  in  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Santa  Mesa  to  the  north,  and  had  been 
busily  ferrying  across  the  Pasig  long  hours 
that  afternoon.  The  plaza,  the  native  houses, 
the  great  churchyard  and  the  side  streets  were 
thronged  with  native  soldiery.  Ethel  was  pale 
and  troubled. 

At  nine  o'clock  Breese  led  her  out  to  the  ter- 
race overlooking  the  placid   river,  and   in   the 


1 62  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

hush  of  the  lovely  evening  sought  to  comfort 
and  reassure  her.     They  were  seated  in  a  little 
arbor,  her  fair  head  resting  on  his  shoulder, 
her  slender  hand  clasped  in  his,  when,  noise- 
less as  a  shadow,  a  native  canoe  came  swiftly, 
suddenly  gliding  under  the  bank  and  was  skill- 
fully paddled  to  the  stone  steps  at  the  water's 
edge.     Two  men  crouched  amidships,  who,  at 
a  whispered  word  from  the  boatman,  cautiously 
stepped  ashore,  and,  bending  low,  came  up  the 
stone  stairway  and  i^eered  about  the  garden. 
Breese  felt  that  Ethel's  heart  was  fluttering  like 
that  of  a  captive  bird,  but  she  sat  upright,  gaz- 
ing at  the  shadowy  pair.     Both  wore  the  uni- 
forms of  officers  of  the  insurgent  army.     The 
scabbards  of  their  swords  gleamed  in  the  star- 
light.    They  were  muttering  excitedly  in  the 
harsh  language  of  the  Tagals,  and  in  one  of 
the   two    Miss   Winston   presently   recognized 
the  young  staff  officer  of  Ricarte.     \\'hat  could 
be  the  object  of  their  cautious  and  secret  visit 
unless  it  involved  in  some  way  the  life  or  safety 
of  her  lover?     From  the  upper  story  of  the 
mansion  the  sound  of  soft  laughter  and  the 
rippling  note  of  a  piano  came  floating  upon  the 
still  night  air,  and  tiptoeing,  the  two  intruders 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  1 63 

crouched  slowly  up  the  pathway  and  were  lost 
to  view  in  the  shrubbery  near  the  heavy  stone 
walls. 

"Percy,"  she  whispered,  clinging  to  him  in 
dread,  "can't  you  bribe  that  boatman  ?  It  is 
your  only  chance.  He  can  land  you  at  Panda- 
can  beyond  the  lines.  They  can't  see  that 
shadowy  thing  in  the  dark.  I  knozc  those  men 
mean  harm  to  you.  Oh,  you  must  get  back — 
you  must  get  back,  and  the  river's  the  only 
way !" 

But  he  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  with  in- 
tense eagerness  in  his  handsome  young  face 
was  listening  to  some  far,  faint,  crackling 
sound  that,  suddenly  breaking  on  the  night,  was 
just  audible  above  the  plash  of  the  swift  waters. 

"Hark!"  he  whispered  as  she  crept  to  his 
side  and  would  again  have  spoken.  Breath- 
less they  crouched  and  bent  their  ears  to  the 
sound — a  low.  rapid  sputter,  a  quick,  irregular 
throbbing  that  seemed  with  every  moment  to 
spread  and  grow  louder  and  to  come  slowly 
creeping  southward,  and  then  the  silent  watcher 
in  the  canoe  sprang  noiselessly  to  shore,  and 
stooped  at  the  head  of  the  steps  and  whistled 
low.     Then  as  no  answer  came,  trampling  the 


164  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

rope  underneath  his  feet,  he  clapped  his  hands 
thrice  and  loudly  in  evident  and  irrepressible 
excitement.  Back  from  the  shadows  of  the 
mansion  came  the  two  slender  forms  in  Fili- 
pino uniform,  springing  down  the  pathway. 
One  moment  they  paused  to  listen  at  the  bench. 
Then  in  eager  tone  they  gave  some  order  to 
the  boatman.  The  canoe  was  hauled  close 
alongside.  The  three  slid  noiselessly  aboard, 
and  away  shot  the  fragile  craft  into  the  black- 
ness of  the  night,  down  stream,  just  as  the 
Filipino  bugles  at  the  barracks  below  and  on 
the  broad  plaza  without  pealed  forth  the  stir- 
ring notes  of  the  alarm.  Somewhere  over  on 
the  east  front  of  Manila,  toward  Santa  Mesa 
or  the  water-works,  the  fierce  volleying  had  be- 
gun, and  right  and  left,  north  and  south,  the 
fight  was  spreading  along  the  circling  lines. 

Then  down  came  MacLean,  pale  but  com- 
posed. "You're  caught,  Breese,  old  chap. 
There's  no  getting  out  now.  Ricarte's  fellows 
are  forming  for  the  attack,  and  every  inch  of 
ground  is  covered.  The  best  we  can  do  is  to 
hide  you  somewhere  in  case  they  insist  on  com- 
ing in  the  grounds." 

"Hiding  won't  help,  man!"  was  the  impati- 


& 


A    RIVAL    ALLY.  I  6^ 

ent  answer.  "My  post  is  tour  miles  away, 
downstream  beyond  tlie  bridges,  and  it's 
disgrace  and  dishonor  if  I  can't  get  there. 
Haven't  you  a  boat — a  canoe  of  some  kind?" 

"Not  so  much  as  a  tub.  and  you  couldn't  slip 
by  those  lynx-eyed  fellows  if  I  had." 

Every  instant  the  sound  of  volleying  grew 
louder,  and  the  sputter  and  crackle  of  musketry 
crept  on  down  the  banks  of  the  San  Juan.  A 
servant  in  snowy  linen  came  rushing  out  in 
search  of  his  master,  and  in  the  Spanish  tongue 
informed  him  that  he  had  closed  the  great  iron 
gates  in  front,  as  ordered,  but  that  the  Com- 
mandante  and  other  officers  were  there  and  de- 
sired to  see  Sefior  MacLean  on  most  import- 
ant business. 

"Stay  where  you  are.  Breese.  You're  safe 
here  if  anywhere.  I'll  have  to  meet  these  fel- 
lows, you  know.  Our  relations  have  been  very 
cordial.     Perhaps  I  can  stand  them  off." 

He  was  back  in  five  minutes.  "It  was  Per- 
alta.  Major  of  the  Artillery."  he  said.  "They 
came  to  warn  us  to  get  under  ctjver.  They 
open  with  their  Krupps  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
of  course  your  fellows  will  answer." 

".•\nswer?    They'll  blow  the  whole  shooting- 


1 66  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

matcli  into  the  Pasig !  Dyer's  battery  is  on  the 
knoll  south  of  Paco,  and  Harry  Hawthorne  is 
back  of  Block  House  1 1  with  the  Hotchkiss 
gims — all  Regulars." 

"Ricarte  knows  all  about  that,  but  he  says  his 
infantry  can  sweep  the  men  from  the  guns. 
He  can  fire  from  three  sides  on  Concordia 
Bridge,  and  from  right  and  front  on  Battery 
Knoll.     Listen!" 

Far  to  the  north  the  boom  of  a  heavy  gun 
punctuated  the  rattle  of  musketry.  Across  the 
Pasig  at  the  east  and  north  of  Manila  the  lines 
were  sharply  engaged,  but  as  yet  Pilar's  Di- 
vision faced  that  of  Anderson's  in  silence. 
Something  held  the  insurgent  leader  in  leash. 

It  came  at  last — well  along  toward  morning. 
All  on  a  sudden  the  bugles  rang  in  front  of 
Santa  Ana,  and  with  exultant  cheers  Ricarte's 
big  brigade  blazed  on  the  American  salient  at 
Blockhouse  ii.  Then  came  the  roar  and  crash 
of  the  Krupps  in  the  river  redoubts,  and  then, 
a  little  later,  the  reply.  Breese.  an  unwilling 
prisoner,  wild  with  excitement,  had  clambered 
to  the  roof,  from  which  point  the  flame  of  the 
battling  lines  could  plainly  be  seen.  The  tri- 
umphant dash  of  the  insurgent  battalions  had 


A    IM\AL    ALLY.  l6j 

met  with  stern  and  sudden  check.  Only  to  the 
banks  of  the  cstcro  had  they  charged.  Beyond 
that.  Hke  a  wall  of  steel  and  flame,  the  blue  line 
stretched  across  tiie  riccfields  and  never  budged 
an  inch. 

Fre(iuent  now  were  the  calls  and  demands  at 
the  iron  gates,  for  every  few  minutes  some 
well-known  officer  was  borne  in  from  the  front, 
sorely  wounded  and  seeking  the  shelter  of  the 
massive  church  or  MacLean's  heavy  stone 
walls.  Then  in  squads  or  detachments 
little  parties  of  Filipinos,  crouching  close  along 
the  walls,  came  drifting  back  from  the  front, 
silent  and  dispirited. 

And  then  a  battalion  that  had  lined  the 
earthworks  across  the  open  ricefields  close  to 
the  highway,  unable  longer  to  bear  up  against 
the  pitiless  storm  of  Yankee  lead,  suddenly 
broke  for  the  shelter  of  the  walls  to  the  rear, 
and  came  stampeding  back  into  the  plaza, 
sweeping  their  shrieking,  sword-brandishing 
officers  with  them.  They  would  have  surged 
into  the  MacLcan  grounds  had  not  the  iron 
gates  been  sternly  barred  against  them.  And 
tlien  there  aro.sc  a  cry  at  sound  of  which  the 
women  clung  to  each  other  in  dismay  and  ter- 


1 68  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

ror  aiul  Maci.can  went  white  with  (h-ead.  In 
rage  and  exasperation  over  their  baffled  hopes 
and  heavy  losses,  the  fierce  Tagals  clamored  for 
vengeance.  Battering  at  the  gate,  they  yelled 
for  the  "Tcnicntc  Aincricano."  Some  one  had 
told  them  Breese  was  still  there  in  hiding,  and 
all  the  devil  in  the  Malay  nature  was  aroused. 
Fiercer  every  moment  rose  the  yells  and  im- 
precations. Then  a  young  officer,  hoisted  on 
their  shoulders,  clambered  to  the  top  of  the  wall 
and  began  a  furious  harangue  in  the  Tagal 
tongue.  In  the  midst  of  it  all  MacLean 
rushed  aloft  and  found  Breese  just  descending, 
pale  and  resolute. 

"Take  me  out  to  them,"  he  calmly  said. 
"They  won't  murder  an  unarmed  man,  but 
they'll  burn  and  wreck  your  home  otherwise. 
Hello!     Why,  here's  Bruce!" 

Bruce  it  was.  He  came  bounding  up  the 
marble  stairs  three  at  a  spring,  and  lost  no 
time  in  ceremony.  "Come  instantly,"  he 
panted,  laying  a  broad  hand  on  the  Ensign's 
shoulder.  "Your  uniform  and  sword  are  in 
my  launch." 

"Bob!  How^  did  you  get  here?"  interjected 
MacLean. 


V         <^' 


I'cnii-ntc  Americano." 


A    RIVAL    AIJ.V.  169 

"Kan  it — full  steam — all  lights  out.  Quick, 
man.  come !  Those  devils  will  rip  you  to  pieces 
if  they  catch  you.     It's  your  only  chance." 

Down  the  stairs,  between  them,  they  hurried 
the  boy.  One  instant  he  broke  from  them  to 
clasp  Ethel  in  his  arms  and  print  a  kiss  upon 
her  forehead.  She  dropped,  half  fainting,  on 
the  stairs,  as  between  them  again  they  rushed 
Breese  to  the  river  bank  and  bundled  him 
aboard.  "Cast  off."  said  Bruce.  "Good- 
night to  you,  Mac.  Tell  Ricarte  blood's 
thicker  than  water  and  John  Bull's  got  his  pris- 
oner, (jive  me  the  wheel,  Manuel.  Now, 
full  speed,  and  lie  flat!" 

Straining  eyes  and  ears.  MacLean.  hanging 
to  a  ring  in  the  stone  post  on  the  bank,  gazed 
after  them  and  listened.  The  Krupps  were 
silent.  Yankee  gunners  had  proved  too  much 
for  Tagal  cannoneers,  but  both  hanks  were 
lined  with  riflemen  all  along  the  big  bend  to 
PanVlacan.  The  sparks  pouring  from  her  fun- 
nel plainly  showed  the  ctmrse  of  the  Hying  boat. 
Within  a  minute  of  her  departure  the  rilles  be- 
gan to  crack,  the  banks  to  blaze  with  spiteful 
flashes.  But  nn  went  that  meteor  of  the  night, 
on  until  it  sud»len!y  dove  out  of  sight  and  into 


I/O  A    RIVAL   ALLY. 

safety  beyond  tlie  dense  fringe  of  bamboo  along 
the  Concordia,  and  thence  went  careering  on 
to  Manila,  her  tiny  whistle  shrieking  triumph 
and  defiance  as  she  sped  on  her  way. 

And  then  MacLean  drew  a  long  breath  and 
strolled  out  to  the  gates  and  faced  the  furious 
throng.  "Senor  Capitan,''  said  he  calmly  to 
the  nearest  officer,  "will  you  and  your  brother 
officers  come  in  and  join  me  m  a  glass  of  wine? 
There  are  no  Americanos  here  to  spoil  our 
pleasure." 

That  was  last  February.  They  call  Bruce 
Quixote  at  the  English  Club  now.  and  "Bob" 
aboard  the  whole  American  fleet.  Jackies 
ashore  whip  off  their  caps  and  grin  delightedly 
at  sight  of  him.  Naval  regulations  were 
powerless  to  prevent  the  mighty,  full-throated 
hurrah  that  went  up  the  evening  Bruce  first 
came  aboard  to  dine  as  a  guest  of  the  ward- 
room officers.  The  one  thing  Ethel  Winston 
was  said  to  have  cried  over  was  the  beautiful 
wedding  gift  he  sent  her  last  September.  She 
said  it  was  more  than  enough  that  he  should 
have  given  Her  a  husband. 


'.^<) 


'A  moment  of  odd  silence  and  constraint." 


THE 
SENATOR'S   PLIGHT. 


The  day  was  hot,  the  debate  even  hotter. 
The  question  was  on  the  amendment,  and  the 
gentleman  from  Jersey  had  the  floor.  There 
had  been  strikes,  riots  and  demoHtion  of  rail- 
way property.  The  mobs  had  sore  smitten  the 
so-called  "minions  of  the  law."  and.  at  last,  re- 
luctant civil  officials  had  appealed  for  aid.  A 
poll  of  the  mob  would  have  revealed  few  voters 
of  any  persuasion  other  than  that  of  the  party 
then  in  power.  Marshal  and  sheriff,  mayor 
and  chief  of  police  were  to  a  man  of  the  same 
political  complexion,  and  a  stanch  exponent  of 
party  principles  abode  in  the  White  House. 
Yet  it  was  they  who  asked  and  he  who  ordered 
the  regulars  to  the  scene,  and.  now  that  danger 
was  at  an  end.  it  was  their  own  associates  in 


1/2  THE   SENATORS   PLIGHT. 

Congress  assembled  whu  were  abusing  the 
reg^ilars  for  going. 

The  gentleman  from  Jersey  was  vehement 
if  not  convincing,  and  while  making  a  stirring 
appeal  against  "these  heartless  oppressors  of 
honest  labor,  these  liveried  hirelings  of  soul- 
less capitalists  and  corporations,  the  menial 
men-at-arms  of  plutocracy,  miscalled  the  Army 
of  the  United  States,"  he  leveled  his  shafts 
more  especially  at  the  name  and  reputation  of 
a  man  he  had  never  seen — the  officer  whose 
misfortune  it  was  to  be  ordered  to  do  his  duty 
in  wdiat  at  the  start,  at  least,  was  an  unpopular 
cause. 

It  must  l)e  admitted  that  the  strikers  had 
been  ''squeezed"  by  a  corporation,  and  that 
many  of  the  papers  and  most  of  the  people 
thought  and  said  no.  Public  sympathy  had 
been  with  the  operatives  and  might  have  pre- 
vailed, but  for  a  certain  impulsiveness  that 
prompted  the  bombarding  of  passengers  and 
passenger  trains  with  brickbats,  the  conversion 
of  some  miles  of  freight,  freight  cars  and 
houses  into  ashes,  and  the  unfortunate  slaying 
of  a  few  of  the  minions  aforementioned. 

The  major  commanding  the  1)attalion  of  in- 


THE  SENATORS   PLIGHT.  I  73 

fantry  sent  to  protect  a  mammoth  manufactur- 
ing plant  was  a  veteran  of  the  civil  war.  with 
a  riot  record  covering  several  states.  He 
reached  the  scene  after  a  hot,  dusty,  trying 
march,  and  reported,  as  his  orders  demanded, 
to  the  mayor,  at  a  moment  when  the  uproar 
was  at  its  height  and  the  lives  of  the  officials 
themselves  were  in  jeopardy.  In  the  pres- 
ence and  hearing  of  scores  of  eager  newspaper 
men.  the  mayor  told  the  major  to  "fire  blank 
cartridges  at  the  mob  and  scare  them."  The 
major  said  blank  cartridges  never  scare  a  mob 
and  he  didn't  bring  them  on  such  business. 
Then  said  the  mayor,  "Fire  a  volley  over  their 
heads."  Then  replied  the  major.  "I  won't. 
That  would  be  killing  innocent  spectators  a 
mile  away  and  sparing  scoundrels  who  richly 
deserve  it.  Don't  tell  me  these  are  working 
men, — that  gang.  They  are  toughs  and  thugs 
from  half  a  dozen  cities.  They  stoned  us  all 
the  way  frc>m  the  station.  Now,  Mr.  Mayor, 
if  you  want  these- yards  cleared  say  so  and 
leave  the  method  to  me." 

Instantly  a  dozen  listeners  slipped  away,  and 
in  a  niDment  more  were  mingling  with  the  mob. 
"It's  all  up.  lx>ysl"     "Slide,     fellers.      These 


174  THE  SENATORS   PLIGHT. 

ain't  no  tin  soldiers."  "Look  out,  the  regulars 
will  shoot!*'  were  the  words  passed  from 
mouth,  from  man  to  man,  and  when  the  silent, 
sturdy  column  in  blue  and  drab,  covered  with 
dust  and  sweat,  swung  sharp  and  sudden  into 
line  to  the  left,  and  the  shod  musket  butts  came 
down  with  simultaneous  thud,  and,  three  hun- 
dred strong,  the  little  battalion  faced  the  jeer- 
ing, yelling,  taunting,  cursing  thousands,  the 
ring-leaders  dove  into  the  depths  and  sneaked 
out  of  harm's  way.  Dusty  and  tired,  stern 
and  silent,  with  dripping  brows,  the  regulars 
stood  and  glowered  straight  into  the  faces  of 
their  howling  fellow  citizens,  the  mob.  Little 
by  little  the  uproar  hushed.  Officers  and  men 
those  regulars  looked  so  hot,  yet  were  so  aw- 
fully, preternaturally  cool. 

"The  jig  is  up,"  said  the  "labor  leaders". 
The  strike  had  failed,  and  then  began  the  news- 
paper abuse  of  the  troops  at  the  scene,  especi- 
■  ally  the  major  in  command,  concerning  whom 
there  were  journals  that  exhausted  their  stock 
of  calumny  and  vituperation.  There  are  times 
when  truth  is  indeed  crushed  to  earth  and  the 
soldier  finds  neither  friends  nor  mercy. 

Among    the    constituents  of  the  Hon.   Mr. 


THE  senator's    PLIGHT.  1/5 

Lansing  were  hundreds  of  the  operatives  of 
the  great  foundries  and  the  railways.     He  and 
his  party  had  lost  caste  among  them  because 
of  the  coming  of  troops  to  stop  the  riot  and 
spoil  the  combination.     Another  election  was 
due  in    November  and  something  had  to-^be 
done  to  restore  his  lost  prestige.     Here  was 
the  gentleman's  chance  and  he  took  it.     After 
scathing  denunciation  of  capitalists  in  general, 
and  the  great  moguls  of  the  railway  in  par- 
ticular, he  turned  to  the  Army  as  the  unscru- 
pulous tool  of  the  tyrant  Gold,  and  with  the 
highly  colored  stories  of  the  local  papers  as 
his  sole  authority,  drew  a  picture  of  the  bloody- 
minded  ruffian  in  command    of    the    regulars 
that    fateful    day.     "A   being,"   he   said,    "be- 
sotted with  rum."    (Two  papers  did  say  the 
major   was   drunk,    though    he   hadn't   had   a 
drink  in  a  month)   "bloated  beyond  all  semb- 
lance of  honest  manhood,"  (the  major  did  look 
red  in  the  face)  "bereft  of  the  last  vestige  of 
what  we  understand  by  the  term  'officer  and 
gfcntleman', — bereft  of  honor,  decency  and  hu- 
manity,  a  creature    to    be    shunned  nf  honest 
men  and  scorned  by  Christian  women.     Sir, 
mav  mv  hand  shrivel  to  the  Ixme.  mv  tongue 


176  THK   SEXATOk's    PLIGHT. 

rot  to  its  roots  ere  ever  1  write  the  line  or  say 
the  word  that  shall  even  inferentially  support 
such  utter  misuse  of  the  national  arms,  or  sus- 
tain an  official  who,  disdaining  the  counsels 
of  the  civil  authority,  dared  with  bullying 
word  and  brutal  emphasis  to  threaten  the  lives 
of  honest  and  indignant  laboring  men,  clamor- 
ing only  for  justice — an  officer  who  has  dis- 
graced the  uniform  of  the  United  States  and 
dishonored  that  sacred  emblem."  And  here 
in  thrilling  peroration  the  gentleman  apostro- 
phized the  striped  and  starry  folds  festooned 
above  the  head  of  the  speaker  pro  tern  and 
took  his  seat  amidst  a  ripple  of  speedily  sub- 
dued applause  in  the  galleries,  a  yawn  and 
rustle  of  papers  about  the  house,  and  then,  a 
motion  to  adjourn.  Laughing  and  chatting 
the  members  came  clattering  down  the  marble 
corridors;  correspondents  W'Cnt  rushing  pell- 
mell  with  their  ''copy" ;  and  the  chairman  of 
the  committee  on  Public  Moods  and  Morals, 
accosting  Mr.  Lansing,  who  was  chaffing  the 
champion  of  the  bill,  gravely  said : 

"Lansing,  did  you  happen  to  notice  a  mighty 
pretty  little  girl  that  left  the  gallery  just  as 


THE  SENATORS   PLIGHT.  I77 

you  finished,  with  a  gray-haired,  fine-looking 
man  of  fifty?" 

"I  saw  the  giri.  Jefifers, — iH(hi"t  happen  to 
notice  the  man.      Why?" 

"Oh.  nothing  much,"  answered  Jefifers,  with 
a  wliimsical  grimmace.  "she  happens  to  be 
from  my  home,  and  the  man  is  her  father — 
Major  Harold,  of  the  Army,  the  gentleman 
who  has  'disgraced  the  uniform  and  dishon- 
ored the  sacred  emblem' — over  the  speaker's 
desk.  Thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  meet 
them." 

Xow.  Lansing  liked  Jeffers.  They  both 
liked  the  chairman  of  the  committee  on  mili- 
tary affairs,  who  knew  beforehand  just  what 
Lansing  would  probably  say.  and  just  what  it 
would  all  amount  to.  In  the  language  of  the 
day,  if  not  of  the  House,  the  gentleman  from 
Jersey  was  only  "talking  through  his  hat."  He 
knew  perfectly  well  the  bill  would  pass.  He 
wouldn't  stop  it  if  he  could.  It  was  just  what 
the  country  needed — only  some  of  his  consti- 
tuents couldn't  see  it.  All  that  tirade  was  for 
their  benefit — or  blinding,  and  there  wasn't  a 
man  on  the  floor  of  the  House  that  didn't 
know  it.     Manv  of  them,  in  one  wav  or  an- 


i;-8  Tin-:  senator's  plight. 

nther,  niigiit  have  to  dn  the  same  thing-.  That 
speech,  .together  with  three  or  four  tremend- 
ous tirades  delivered  at  home  made  him  soHd 
again  with  the  electors  of  the  Twentieth  Dis- 
trict and  in  the  fullness  of  time  the  Hon.  Mr. 
i.ansing  had  forgotten  the  whole  affair. 

But  not  so  the  major. 

When  a  man  has  fought  through  such  a 
war  as  that  of  the  great  Rehellion.  and  won 
the  enthusiastic  praise  of  soldiers  such  as  Sher- 
man. Sheridan  and  Thomas,  as  had  the  major 
before  he  was  twenty-three;  when  a  man  has 
twice  been  nipped  by  Southern  lead  and  has 
followed  u])  these  trifles  with  years  of  tireless, 
])atient  and  at  times  heroic  service  on  the  In- 
dian frontier — he  has  some  right  to  think  he 
deserves  well  of  his  country,  and  even  of  his 
country's  Congress.  A  tiptop  soldier  was 
Harold  withal — modest,  gentle  and  courteous 
to  a  fault  among  his  kind,  almost  idolized  by 
liis  men  and  entirely  idolized  by  his  family — 
([uite  a  model  husband  and  father  in  fact. 
J*rou(l  of  his  profession,  and  sensitive,  he  was 
a  man  who  would  go  to  the  ends  of  the  world 
to  undo  a  wrong,  and  did  we  but  still  live  un- 
der the  code  that  held  a  gentleman  responsible 


THE  SKXATOR  S    iMJi;HT.  I  79 

fur  his  words,  would  lia\e  ^oiie  almost  as  tar 
to  redress  one.  Scrupulous  to  a  fault,  it  \va^> 
told  of  him  that  he  had  once  ridden  all  the  way 
from  Cheyenne  to  the  Chugwater  to  apologize 
to  a  hin-  lieutenant  of  cavalry  on  learning  that 
it  was  the  lad's  captain  and  noi  the  lad  that 
was  responsihle  for  an  affair  that  had  called 
down  his  reprimand  upon  the  boy's  bewildered 
liead.  The  soul  of  honor  and  justice,  he  was 
hke  Thackeray's  noble  old  Newcome,  intoler- 
ant of  falsehood  in  any  form,  and  furious  if 
anyone  took  a  liberty  with  him. 

\'isiting  Washington  for  the  first  time  since 
the  sixties,  bringing  a  beloved  daughter  to  see 
her  mother's  kindred  a  year  after  that  beloved 
mother's  death,  he  had  taken  his  child  to  hear 
the  debate  on  the  Army  Bill,  with  the  result 
described.  That  evening  they  were  to  have 
dined  informally  at  the  Jeft'ers's.  Init  when  that 
honorable  gentleman  reached  h-  inic  there  was 
a  note  by  special  messenger,  regretting — They 
had  decided  to  leave  Washington  that  night. 

Jeffers  saw  the  trouble  in  a  moment:  drove 
si>eedily  to  the  Shorehan  and  >ent  up  his  card. 
In  the  hallway  he  met  I'oster.  lieutenant 
colonel   in   the  a<ljutant  general's  department. 


l80  THE  senator's  PLIGHT. 

a  man   he  well   knew.     '"What's  wrong  with 
Harold?"  asked  the  member  from  Michigan. 

"All  broke  up,"  said  the  War  Department 
official.  "Fve  been  trying  to  make  him  un- 
derstand it,  but — it's  no  use.  Lucky  for 
Lansing  these  are  not  the  days  of  Jefferson  and 
Jackson  he  loves  to  tell  about.  It  would  be  a 
case  of  Bladensburg  at  sunrise  or  universal 
contempt  for  him  before  sunset." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Foster!  You  know  well  enough 

Lansing  didn't  mean  a word  of  it !    He's 

one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world — when  you 
come  to  know  him." 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  know.  but.  you  see,  Har- 
old has  spent  his  whole  life  in  the  line,  where 
men  say  what  they  mean,  not  here  where  they 
— don't.  Harold  thinks  he's  disgraced, — dis- 
honored in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  nation,  in- 
stead of  being  supported  for  doing  his  duty 
like  a  man  and  a  soldier.  Why,  every  paper 
in  the  land  will  have  it  in  the  morning.  As 
for  that  little  girl,  she'd  be  crying  her  eyes 
out,  only  she's  doing  her  best  to  comfort  him. 
Go  in  and  do  what  you  can — I'm  useless." 
And  the  colonel  turned  away  with  a  shrug. 

"Oh,  come  back,  Foster,"  cried  Jeffers,  with 


THE  senator's   PLICIIT.  i8[ 

a  grab  at  his  arm.  "I've  got  to  square  the 
old  chap  someliow,  and  y(^u  can  help — You're 
a  soldier  and  I'm  not.  Why,  Lansing's  one 
of  the  best  friends  I've  got  in  the  House,  out- 
side of  politics.  We're  always  sailing  into 
each  other  on  the  floor,  of  course,  but  if  I 
wanted  anything  for  Harold  next  minute,  he'd 
canvass  the  whole  capitol  for  mc.  W  hy,  next 
time  he  sees  Harold  he'll  tell  him  so — tell  him 
he  knows  he's  just  one  of  the  best  soldiers  and 
squarest  men  in  the  whole  service.  You  see 
if  he  don't." 

" — And  mean  it  just  as  much  as  what  he 
said  to-day,  I  presume,"  answered  the  colonel, 
dryly.  "That  may  comfort  Harold  a  lot — I 
do)i't  think.     You  go  in — I'll  wait." 

It  was  something  Jeffers  never  forgot — the 
picture  of  his  old  friend  as  he  entered  the 
room.  Harold  was  pacing  the  floor,  his 
twitching  hands  behind  his  back,  his  deep-set 
eyes  glowing,  his  thin,  weather-beaten,  sol- 
dierly face  quivering  with  wrath  and  sense  of 
wrong,  and  in  spite  of  the.  tan  of  years  in  sun 
and  wind,  gray  almost  as  the  gray  mou.>tache 
and  hair.  He  whirled  on  Jeffers.  with  chal- 
lenge in  his  eye  and  V(^ice  like  a  sentry  guard- 


iSj  THE  senator's  im.ight. 

ing  an  imperiled  post.  Morence.  a  tall  slip  of 
a  girl,  just  fifteen,  was  standing  at  the  table  at 
Jcffcrs's  entrance,  and  stejiped  (juickly  to  her 
father's  side,  her  fond  eyes  full  of  love  and 
trust  and  trouble.  Harold  turned  and  kissed 
her  w  ith  trembling  lips.  "Run  into  your  own 
room  a  moment,  little  daughter."  he  mur- 
mured. "1  must  speak  with  Mr.  Jeffers." 
She  obeyed  silently,  for  such  was  her  habit, 
l)ut  with  infinite  reluctance.  Then  Harold 
turned  on  his  friend. 

"Of  course  you  heard — " 

"Of  course  I  couldn't  help  hearing,  Harold, 
old  chap,  and  of  course  I  saw  Lansing  at  once. 
Whv,  you  never  saw  a  man  so  cut  up!  He 
wouldn't  have  said  it  for  the  world  if  he'd 
known  you  were  there.  He  don't  mean  it! 
Lord  love  you,  Harold !  Why  we — we  say 
ail  sorts  of  things  of  each  other,  just  that  way. 
It's  all  for — for — " 

Well,  just  what  it  was  all  for  according  to 
Jeffers  remained  unsaid.  The  passion  of  wrath 
in  the  soldier's  face  amazed  him.  "Don't  go 
away  feeling  like  that,  Harold."  he  stammered. 
"Just  hold  on  a  day  or  two — till  this  thing  sort 
— sort  o'  blows  over,  and — vou  mark  what  T 


THE  SKNATOR's    I'LIGHT.  I  83 


say — Lansing  will  come  t«>  you  niorc'n  halt 
way.  and  if  ever  you  want  a  Idessed  thing  here 
in  Washington,  why.  that  man  will  just  see 
that  you  get  it.  and  he  can  do  it — he  as  much 
as  told  me  he  would.     He  told  me — " 

"Told  you,  did  he?  And  you — whom  I 
have  kncjwn  since  we  were  lK)ys — come  to  me 
with  such  a  message!"  And  the  very  table 
on  which  he  leaned  shook  with  the  violence  of 
the  veteran's  enK»tion.  Up  went  the  hand  to 
the  length  of  his  arm.  as  Harold  (juivered  to 
his  full  height — he  wasn't  \ery  big — 

'A'ou  say  to  him  for  me,  that  1  say  he's  one 
<)f  the  two-faced  curs  I've  been  taught  all  my 
life  to  despise,  and  he's  a  man — no,  God  for- 
Ijid  1  shiiuld  insult  the  rest  of  our  kind  by  call- 
ing him  line — that  he's  one  of  those  sneaking 
cads  who  would  come  privately  to  a  man  and 
declare  his  friendship  even  while  he  is  iloing 
everything  in  his  power,  secretly  and  publicly 
to  (kunn  him.  \'(*u  say  to  him  that  he  may 
thank  Goil  a  gentleman  has  no  longer  a  way  to 
wring  apology  from  a  blackguard,  and  that  be- 
fore I  would  be  indebted  to  him  for  any  favor, 
big  or  little,  here  or  hereafter.  I'd  (|uit  the 
army  in  disgust,  and  if  ever  he  dare  (^tifer  me 


184  THE  senator's  plight. 

his  help  or  his  hand,  he'll  get  mine — clinched 
— full  in  his  cowardly  face!" 

Two  hours  later  the  major  left  Washington 
and  from  that  day  to  this  has  never  cared  to 
see  it  again. 

Four  years  later,  there  or  thereabouts,  at 
the  head  of  a  gallant  regiment,  a  keen-eyed, 
white-moustached  colonel  landed  on  the  Cuban 
coast,  and  w'ith  the  flag  he  w'as  alleged  to  have 
dishonored  high  waving  in  his  sinewy  hand, 
led  the  charge  on  a  fire-spitting  ridge  and 
planted  the  colors  on  the  Spanish  works.  The 
shoulderstrap,  torn  away  by  one  Mauser  bul- 
let (while  a  second  bored  through  the  arm  be- 
neath), was  speedily  replaced  by  another,  the 
silver  leaf  by  a  silver  star.  Older,  grayer  as 
to  face  and  whiter  as  to  hair.  Harold  was  to 
the  full  the  same  highstrung.  heroic  soldier, 
l3rimming  with  energy,  pluck  and  purpose. 
Life  had  been  sore  indeed  for  long  months 
after  that  Washington  episode.  His  morning 
mail,  just  as  for  \veeks  after  the  riot,  had  been 
filled  with  marked  copies  of  certain  papers  and 
witli  many  a  letter  of  abuse.  These  had  gone 
into  the  wastebasket.  but  the  speech  of  the 
Honorable  Mr.  Lansing,  the  new  Champion  of 


TilE   SEXATOR's   plight.  I  85 

Labor,  so-called,  had  entered  like  seething  lire 
into  his  soul.  Jeffers.  of  course,  had  never 
delivered  that  message.  The  War  Depart- 
ment had  declined  to  listen  to  the  Major's  plea 
for  a  court  of  inquiry,  because,  as  said  the 
Honorable  Secretary  of  War,  Major  Herold's 
conduct  on  the  occasion  referred  to  had  re- 
ceived the  highest  commendation  of  his  supe- 
riors, and  he  needed  no  other  vindication. 

"An  officer  cannot  seek  redress  for  words 
uttered  in  debate."  said  the  adjutant  general, 
a  warm  personal  friend.  In  fact  there  was 
nothing, — there  is  nothing  for  the  soldier, 
wronged  either  by  the  politician  or  the  public 
press  but  silent  sufferance. 

Harold  had  buried  himself  in  the  duties  of 
his  profession  in  the  far  West,  whither  his 
promotion  to  the  lieutenant  colonelcy  took  him 
within  a  month  of  that  memorable  visit,  and 
officers  and  men  who  loved  and  honored  him 
lieard  no  further  mention  of  the  matter  from 
his  lips.  It  was  something  of  which  he  simply 
could  not  speak.  Florence  in  the  course  of 
tour  years  came  back  to  him  from  school,  "for 
good,"  as  she  happily  said,  and  young  fellov.s 


i86  Tin-:  skxatok's  plight. 

in  tlic  rcj^imcnt  were  lnoking  and  wooing  all 
in  vain  when  the  Spanish  war  broke  ont. 

Three  months  sufficed  to  mend  him  of  his 
Santiago  wound,  and  then,  leaving  his  beloved 
daughter  with  army  friends  at  the  Presidio, 
Harold,  now  a  brigadier-general,  with  two  gal- 
lant boys  in  the  line,  one  a  subaltern  in  his 
own  brigade,  took  the  field  in  front  of  Manila, 
and  entered  into  the  thick  of  the  stirring  cam- 
paign of  '99  to  win  new  laurels  in  Luzon. 

One  l)listering  morning  in  May  when  the 
rails  of  the  Dagupan  road  seemed  ready  to 
curl  in  the  scorching  sunshine,  MacArthur's 
stanch  division  was  deployed  for  attack,  w'hile 
on  the  far  right  llank  a  picked  regiment  was 
sent  in  to  find  the  insurgent  left  and  double 
it.  With  these,  wading  a  muddy  stream, 
waist  deep,  went  the  brigadier,  and  then,  some- 
where in  the  thickets  and  close  to  the  railway, 
the  ad\-ance  ran  slap  upon  a  concealed  force, 
with  a  stifif  little  blockhouse  at  the  edge  of  the 
timber. 

The  fierce  volley  that  greeted  them  in  the 
sharp  staccato  of  the  ^lausers  would  have 
been  more  than  .sufficient  to  drive  untried  men 
to  instant  cover,  and  Harold  for  just  a  mo- 


TiiK  senator's  pi.ic.h  r.  187 

ineiit  felt  a  thrill  of  anxiety  as  to  the  result. 
S])iirrini|^  eagerly  forward,  iir^in^^  on  the  sup- 
ports, he  burst  through  the  intervening  tangle 
of  brush  and  bypath  and  out  upon  the  open 
fieUi.  more  than  half  expecting  to  find  his  skir- 
mishers flattened  in  the  nnid  like  hunted  scfwir- 
rcls,  or  skimming  back  for  cover.  This  in 
full  view  of  half  the  division  on  the  southern 
bank  would  never  do  in  the  world.  One  quick 
glance  over  the  fiat,  rain-soaked,  abandoned 
ricefield  sent  the  blood  leaping  through  his 
\eins,  and  soldier  joy  and  delight  to  his  flash- 
ing eyes.  Recoiling?  X^ot  a  bit  of  it !  With 
instant  cheer  the  line  had  answered  the  chal- 
lenge, and,  thongh  half  a  dozen  lads  lay 
stretched  among  the  dikes,  following  the  lead 
of  a  lithe  young  officer,  conspicuous  in  his  trim 
•^uit  of  khaki,  the  rushing  rank  of  blue  shirts 
had  dashed  straight  for  the  opix)site  timber 
and  centered  on  the  blockhouse. 

Bring  up  the  sup])orts,  (|uick  now!"  shouted 
the  general  to  an  aide-de-camp.  "Come  on, 
everybody!"  and  with  one  staff  officer  and  a 
brace  of  orderlies  at  liis  back  ajid  the  swift  on- 
ct^ming  dash  of  tlie  deploying  scjuads  bursting 
through  the  brake  behind  him,  aw  ay  he  spurred 


1 88  Tiin  senator's  plight. 

toward  the  ])oint  of  the  timher  where  the  Fili- 
pino c(>lors  were  floating"  over  tlie  lire-spitting 
tower,  and  was  up  among  the  very  leaders  as 
his  men  drove  in  with  gleaming  bayonets, 
straight  to  the  teeth  of  the  foe.  Risky  work 
that,  dare-devil  work,  hut  work  that  carried 
terror  and  conviction  with  it.  "What  manner 
of  men  are  these."  said  Tagal  prisoners, 
"wdiom  shooting  cannot  stop?  When  we  fire 
at  the  Spaniards  they  lie  down.  When  we 
shoot  at  Americanos  you  jump  up  and  run  at 
us.  It  is  not  fair."  ''What  queer  notions  of  the 
combat  have  these  Yankees,  whose  colonels 
leave  their  regiments  behind  them  and  ride  up 
into  our  trenches  and  shoot  us  with  pistols,  as 
does  this  Senor  Coronel  Bell,  or  swim  rivers 
naked  or  crawl  bridge  timbers  on  his  belly  as 
does  this  Coronel  Chiquito — Funston !  It  is 
not  the  practice  of  the  grandee — the  Castilian. 
What  means  it  that  a  General  should  come 
charging  trenches  with  a  squad  of  skirmish- 
ers? It  is  beneath  the  digTiity  of  such  high 
of^ce,"  saith  the  Spanish  taught  native.  But 
it  is  woefully  demoralizing  to  the  little  brown 
men. 

With  barelv  a  bakers'  dozen  from  the  right 


THE  senator's   PLIGHT.  189 

of  the  line,  that  tall  young  lieutenant  uf  regu- 
lars has  darted  into  the  block-house  and 
pistoled  the  foremost  defenders,  while  the 
others,  amazed  and  overawed,  drop  their  guns 
and  crouch  to  the  floor.  Down  comes  the  ban- 
ner of  the  blazing  sun  and  up  goes  a  cheer  for 
the  General  riding  joyously  over  to  say  a  word 
of  praise  to  the  gallant  fellow,  who,  now  that 
his  work  is  done,  stands  panting  at  the  door- 
way, one  hand  pressed  to  his  side,  and  dumbly 
asks  an  anxious-eyed  sergeant  for  water.  A 
faint  flush  rises  one  instant  to  his  paling  cheek, 
as  he  hears  the  voice  uf  the  brigade  com- 
mander : — 

"Magnificently  done,  sir!'"  Then,  with  in- 
stant concern — "Why,  my  lad,  you're  hit." 

A  half  smile,  a  nod  as  the  brown  gauntlet 
reaches  the  brim  of  the  campaign  hat  in  effort 
to  salute.  Then  hat  and  head  drop  together, 
the  knees  give  way,  and  the  brave  boy  is 
caught  by  strong,  supporting  arms  and  low- 
ered senseless  to  the  ground.  The  General  is 
off  his  pony  in  a  second.  The  reserves  are 
rushing  by  in  pursuit  of  the  scattering  foe. 
"Call  Dr.  Forney  here,"  he  cries,  as  he  kneels 
an  instant  at  the  side  of  the  stricken  officer. 


190  Tin-:   SKXATOR  S    PLICHT. 

'■There's  nothing  on  earth  too  good  for  this 
lad.  W'hii  is  he.  (iray?"  and  lie  glances  up  at 
his  adjutant  general.  A  queer  look  comes  in- 
to the  captain's  face,  and  a  half  falter  marks 
the  answering  words : 

"Mr.  Lansing,  sir.  — th  Infantry." 

:*;  :■;  ^  ;•:  :^;  :!:  ^;  ^  ^  :^c  ^ 

There  is  a  brilliant  scene  a  few  months  later 
in  one  of  the  great  lake  cities.  A  social  crush 
has  resulted  from  the  visit  of  a  sailor  hero  of 
the  nation,  and  fair  women  and  brave  men 
have  thronged  to  greet  him.  Glad  and  cor- 
dial as  is  his  manner  to  all,  the  Admiral  has 
hailed  Avith  especial  joy  a  thin-faced,  soldierly 
looking  \eteran  whose  snowy  hair  and  white 
moustache  are  in  as  marked  contrast  with  the 
tan  of  his  complexion  as  is  his  simple  evening- 
dress  with  the  glittering  uniforms  about  him. 

But  even  the  button  of  the  Loyal  Legion  at 
his  lapel  is  not  needed  to  stamp  him  as  a  sol- 
dier. 1^)  many  men  and  women  his  name 
and  fame  are  well  known,  and  many  a  word 
of  welcome  has  greeted  him  and  the  beautiful 
girl  who  clings  so  proudly,  yet  almost  protect- 
ingly.  at  his  side,  for  serious  illness  has  fol- 
lowed on  the  heels  of  a  severe  campaign  under 


THE  senator's   PLIGHT.  I9I 

tropic  skies,  and  the  General  so  warmly  hailed 
by  the  <;uest  oi  honor  is  bnt  slowly  recuperat- 
ing in  his  native  land.  Ouite  a  crowd  sur- 
roumls  them  both  and  the  little  group  of  fair 
women  who  arc  "receiving'",  when,  toward 
eie\en  o'clock,  in  the  procession  of  arrivals, 
there  appears  a  tall,  distinguished  looking  man 
lor  whom  the  floor  committee  seem  anxious  to 
clear  the  pathway — a  personage  whom,  a  mo- 
ment later,  the  Admiral  spies  and  steps  fi)r- 
ward  in  hearty  sailor  fashion  to  greet. 

•'Why.  Senator."  he  cries.  "This  is  glori- 
ous!    I  had  no  idea  you  were  here!" 

"Admiral."  responds  the  new  comer,  in  the 
resonant  tones  of  one  to  whom  i)ublic  speak- 
ing is  an  every  day  affair.  "1  am  here  because 
yuit  are  here.  1  heard,  sir.  of  this  reception 
in  vour  honor,  as  1  was  on  my  way  to  a  con- 
ference in  Chicago,  and  I  stopped  over  pur- 
posely to  join  in  the  demonstration  in  your 
honor."  anil  as  he  shakes  the  Admiral's  hand 
the  senator  glances  benignly  round  about  him 
that  all  these  his  fellow  citizens  of  a  Western 
metropolis  may  view  the  lineaments  and  realize 
the  presence  of  a  statesman  from  the  .Atlantic 
seaboard. 


igZ  THE   SENATOR  S   PLIGHT. 

"So  good  of  you ;  so  very  good !"  responds 
the  sailor,  to  whom  all  countrymen  seem  as 
friends.  "By  Jove!  I'm  glad  you're  here.  I 
want  you  to  meet  one  of  the  men  who  made 
history  in  Luzon.  General!  General!"  he 
cries,  summoning  his  soldier  comrade  from 
the  midst  of  a  bevy  of  purring,  sympathetic 
folk,  "General,  1  want  you  to  know  one  of  my 
particular  friends.  Senator  Lansing — General 
Harold." 

"General  Harold,"  says  the  statesman,  in 
prompt,  full  voweled  words  that  tell  on  every 
ear,  "This  is  indeed  a  delightful  surprise.  I 
rejoice  in  this  opportunity,  sir,  of  meeting  a 
soldier  whose  career  we  have  all  watched  with 
such  pride,  and  especially,  sir,  do  I  desire  to 
thank  yon  thus  publicly  for  your  tribute  to  my 
son — a  brave  boy,  sir,  though  I  do  say  it,  as 
indeed  you  have,  so  handsomely — and  that 
boy,  sir,  well-nigh  worships  you." 

There  is  instant  murmur  and  ripple  of  ap- 
plause in  the  surrounding  throng.  Then,  a 
moment  of  odd  silence  and  constraint.  The 
cordially  extended  hand  remains  extended  yet 
unclasped.  The  thin  face  of  the  accosted  Gen- 
eral has  ffone  well-nigh  as  white  as  his  thick 


THE  SENATOR  S    PLIGHT.  I93 

moustache.  His  steely,  deep-set  eyes  are  gaz- 
ing straight  into  the  broad,  beaming  features 
of  the  magnilo(iuent  statesman,  but  every  mus- 
cle for  an  instant  seems  to  be  twitching  as 
fruni  some  strange,  uncontrollable  emotion. 
The  thin,  white  fingers  are  working  convul- 
sively. The  deep  chest  rises  and  falls.  With 
a  half  smothered  word  of  alarm,  a  tall,  lovely 
girl  has  sprung  to  his  side  and  placed  a  hand 
on  the  father's  arm.  At  which,  as  though 
conquering  some  physical  [lain  only  by  intense 
effort  of  will,  the  General  takes  the  out- 
stretched hand  one  instant  in  a  cold,  nervous 
clasp,  then  drops  it.  and  coldly,  almost  inaud- 
ibly.  he  replies  : — 

•'Good  evening,  sir.  Yes;  Lieutenant  Lans- 
ing is  a  most  gallant  officer.  Now.  excuse  me. 
Florence — oh.  yes,  you're  here."  Then  he 
bows.  and.  with  her  hand  on  his  arm,  turns 
abruptly  away. 

"The  General  still  suffers  from  his  wound," 
savs  the  .\dmiral  evidently  disturbed. 

"His  wound — yes — I  see."  says  the  Senator 
reflectively  rubbing  his  chin. 

And  as  the  diplomats  say.  for  the  time  being 
the  incident  is  closed. 


194  'I'm^  SHXATOR  S   I'LICllT. 

But.  before  taking  train  on  tlie  morrow,  the 
Senatt)r  receives  a  letter  in  a  hand  he  never  saw 
before,  yet  knows  at  a  glance.  On  the  table 
lies  another  letter  just  received  from  his  gallant 
boy.  once  again,  after  a  few  months'  leave  un- 
der surgeon's  certificate,  under  orders  to  join 
his  regiment  in  the  I'hilippines.  This  letter 
ran  : 

"Dear  Old  Dai:) — Yours  to  the  mater  came 
last  night.  Lakewood  has  done  her  a  power 
of  good  and  I'm  sound  as  ever  in  lung  and 
limb,  but  I've  lost  one  thing  that  she  found 
out  four  weeks  ago  and  you've  got  to  be  told 
of  now.  You  know  I  was  laid  up  at  the  Pre- 
sidio a  month  before  they  would  let  me  come 
on  East.  You  kncnv  how  kind  the  army  wo- 
men were  to  yoiu"  banged-up  son.  You  kno^v 
what  I  think  of  old  Blue  Blood,  my  hero  Gen- 
eral— God  bless  him  for  the  bravest,  squarest. 
truest,  tenderest-hearted  old  soldier  that  ever 
fought.  You  don't  know  how  surprised  and 
how  lucky  T  was  to  find  among  the  girls  at  the 
Presidio  a  certain  Miss  Florence  Harold,  for 
he  never  spoke  of  her  to  me,  e\'en  when  he 
came  to  say  good-ln^e  and  good  luck.  But 
she's  home  now.  and  he — and  1  want  vou  to 


THE  senator's    PLIGHT.  I95 

see   him   on    your    Westward    run.    meet  him, 
know  him  and — lielp  me  all  you  know   how. 
tor.  Dad.  with  all  my  soul  I  love  his  daughter. 
Vtuirs  ever  affectionately. 

"Richard  K.  Lansing." 

And  now.  full  of  thought  over  this  letter 
from  his  only  son.  the  senator  turns  ruefully 
to  the  other,  which  he  feels  must  be  from  the 
"squarest,  truest,  tenderest-hearted  old."  etc., 
etc.  He  knew  it  before  he  had  seen  more  than 
the  mere  superscription. 

"Sir  : 

Five  years  ago  this  month  you  did  me  the 
honor  on  the  floor  of  the  House  to  publicly 
proclaim  me  a  disgrace  to  my  cloth — a  crea- 
ture to  be  shunned  of  honest  men  and  scorned 
by  Christian  wc^nen.  and  a  l)eing  bereft  of  the 
last  vestige  of  what  is  understood  by  the  term 
officer  and  gentleman. 

"Last  night  in  a  crowded  assemblage,  with 
fuls<jme  words,  you  almost  as  publicly  tendered 
vour  hand.  It  would  have  served  you  right 
had  I  then  and  there  refused  ii,  but  the  man 
you  had  so  wronged  and  outraged  was  at  least 
too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  permit  himself  to 


196  THE  senator's  PLIGHT. 

luimiliale  you  at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a 

presence. 

"This  is  to  notify  you,  however,  that  your 

affrontery    will    never    again    be    overlooked. 

Under  no   circumstances  will   I   recognize  or 

receive  you  again. 

Thomas  Harold." 

"Good  Lord!"  says  Lansing;  "I'd  almost 
forgotten  it  entirely,  and  now  my  boy's  life 
and  happiness  are  bound  up  in  this  man's 
daughter." 

And  so,  a  month  later,  when  gallant  Dick 
Lansing  goes  back  to  Manila  it  is  with  a  sorely 
wounded  heart  and  Florence  Harold's  "No". 
This,  too,  when  he  had  good  grounds  for 
buoyant  hope. 

The  winter  is  gone,  the  spring  has  come. 
May  with  sunshine  and  blossoms  and  balmy 
breezes  brings  new  life  to  the  veins  of  the  vet- 
eran soldier,  now  honorably  retired  from  ac- 
tive service,  yet  living  his  soldier  life  again  in 
the  glowing  letters  of  his  boys,  both  now 
fighting  in  the  far  Philippines.  He  could  be 
happy  as  he  is  proud,  but  for  one  thing. 
While    health    and    strength    have    returned 


THE  senator's  PLIGHT.  I97 

to  him  and  honors  have  come  to  his 
soldier  sons,  he  has  seen,  with  growing  dis- 
tress, that,  brave  and  bright  as  she  ever  seemed 
in  the  long  hours  of  the  restful  days  they  spent 
together  in  the  South,  his  precious  child  has 
been  visibly  drooping.  Twice  he  has  sur- 
prised her  in  tears. 

Between  them  before  he  left  Detroit  there 
had  been  one  memorable  talk  upon  the  sub- 
ject on  which  for  at  least  four  years,  and  even 
to  her.  his  lips  has  been  sealed.  That  hapless 
meeting  with  his  defamer  had  rekindled  all 
the  old  wrath,  reopened  the  old  galling 
w^ounds,  and  her  fond  caresses  could  not  banish 
either.  All  that  night  he  had  paced  the  floor. 
He  could  not  sleep.  All  the  love  and  loyalty 
and  devotion  in  her  fond,  pure  heart  went  out 
to  him  in  sympathy  and  support,  even  though 
she,  too.  was  thinking  of  a  never-to-be-forgot- 
ten night — an  August  evening  at  the  Golden 
Gate — the  last  evening  Dick  Lansing  spent  at 
San  Francisco  before  his  start  for  home.  There 
had  been  frank,  full  avowal  on  his  part.  There 
had  been  no  promise  on  hers,  for  she  knew 
her  father  if  not  his.  and  while  she  could  not 
— would  not — tell  him  <>f  the  painful  episode 


198  THE  SEXATOKS   PLIGHT. 

that  might  still  hear  so  lieavily  upon  their 
hopes — she  well  knew  her  very  manner  had 
given  him  cause  to  hope — and  that  her  cold, 
constrained  letter,  written  at  her  father's  bed- 
side during  the  relapse  that  followed  his  meet- 
ing with  the  senator,  must  have  cut  him  to  the 
t|uick  and  made  him  think  her  heartless.  But 
here,  with  this  wronged,  wifeless  old  soldier 
lay  her  duty  now,  and  no  earthly  consideration 
should  take  her  from  him. 

But  oh.  the  pity  of  it ! 

A  brilliant  May  day  was  ushered  in.  the  an- 
niversary of  the  blistering  morning  of  the 
Santa  Rita,  and  with  her  slender  hand  in  his, 
the  general  sat  blinking  out  over  the  sparkling 
waters  of  the  Tappan  Zee,  as  the  day  boat 
bore  them  up  the  Hudson,  bound  for  a  brief 
visit  to  his  beloved  shrine,  the  Point.  A 
young  ofHcer  of  the  corps  of  instructors  at  the 
Academy,  recognizing  him.  had  found  chairs 
for  both  upon  the  crowded  deck,  and  then  witb 
deep  intuition  for  one  of  his  years,  had  left 
them  to  each  other,  for  here  was  a  clear  case, 
said  he,  of  "Dad  and  Daughter  Spoons."  But 
the  beauty  of  that  girl's  face  was  a  thing  that 
drew   many  a    glance    from    his  appreciative 


THE  SENATOR  S    PLIGHT.  I99 

eye>.  and  ott  Croton  Point  he  ventured  to  ac- 
cost them,  newspaper  in  hand,  sympathetic  in- 
terest in  his  young  face. 

"Hard  luck  your  old  friends  t.)f  the  — th 
liad  yesterday.  General !  They  were  with  you 
last  year,  as  I  remember." 

"Hard  luck!  How?  1  hadn't  seen  or 
heard."  and  with  an.xious  eyes  the  <»ld  .soldier 
turned  upon  the  subaltern. 

"Up  against  too  big  a  gang  in  thick  bam- 
boo." was  the  answer.  "Quite  a  number 
killed  an<l  wounded — and  they've  finished  poor 
Dick  Lansing  this  time." 

"O  my  God!"  cried  Harold.  But  warn- 
ing came  tO(i  late.  Florence  was  hanging 
limp  and  senseless  over  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

I^jur  weeks  later,  when  the  Hancock 
steamed  away  for  Manila,  among  the  names  re- 
corded on  her  limited  passenger  list  were  tho.se 
(.f  General  Harold,  U.  S.  A.,  and  daughter. 
The  full  story  of  that  stiff  brush  in  the  jungle 
had  l)een  long  in  coming.  Swamp  and  thicket 
had  delayed  what  was  to  have  been  a  simulta- 
neous tknk  attack,  and  the  dash  of  the  direct 
assault   was   met   by   withering  fire   fr'>m    in- 


200  THE  SENATOR  S  PLIGHT. 

visible  foes.  They  did  their  best,  poor  lads, 
but  were  driven  back  with  cruel  loss,  leaving 
their  gallant  leader  and  perhaps  half  a  dozen 
other  wounded  in  the  hands  of  the  Tagals. 
Instantly  another  and  stronger  column  was 
rushed  out  to  repair  the  loss,  and  after  long- 
pursuit  and  almost  incredible  exertion,  they  re- 
captured the  prisoners,  with  Lansing  still  alive, 
but  very  low.  On  the  heels  of  this  news  came 
the  report  that  Lieutenant  Ben  Harold  was 
down  with  typhoid,  and  a  white  faced  veteran 
wired  from  West  Point  for  permission  to  take 
the  first  transport,  and  before  Florence  was 
well  enough  to  start  on  so  long  a  journey  a 
card  was  brought  to  the  shaded  room  wherein 
she  lay,  and  Harold's  voice  trembled  as  he 
said,  'T  will  see  him — here." 

They  showed  him  in,  and  for  a  moment  the 
new  comer's  eyes  were  baffled  by  the  dark- 
ness. He  stepped  at  once,  however,  to  the  sol- 
dier who  had  silently  risen.  No  hand  was 
extended.  Lansing  stood  and  bowed  his 
head. 

"I  have  come,'"  said  he.  ''to  say  that  which 
I  should  have  said  years  ago.  I  wronged  you 
utterly.     For  the  sake  of  this  dear  girl,   for 


THE  SENATOR  S   PLIGHT.  20I 

the  sake  of — my  dying  boy — my  all — can't  y<m 
forgive  a  broken-hearted  man?' 

♦         ::^         ********         * 

There  have  been  some  rapturous  meetings 
on  shipboard  oft'  the  mouth  of  that  grass- 
green,  flooding  Passig,  but  this — this-  was 
something  which  a  veteran  mariner,  long  used 
to  the  language  of  the  bridge  and  the  fo'cs'le, 
declared  '"just  blew  me  oft'  soundings."  From 
the  day  they  left  the  Farallones  to  that  of 
casting  anchor  off  Manila,  a  full  moon  later, 
no  word  as  to  loved  ones  lingering  between 
life  and  death  had  reached  them.  But  an  aid 
of  the  commanding  general  came  scrambling 
abixard  with  glad  tidings  for  Harold  before 
the  chains  ceased  clanging  through  the  hawse 
pipes.  His  soldier  l)oy  was  rapidly  convalesc- 
ing at  the  Second  Reserve,  and,  as  for  Dick ! 

There  is  a  pretty  room  well  forward  on  the 
Hancock,  opening  into  the  captain's  sanctum 
on  the  ujjper  deck.  In  old  days  when,  as  an 
Atlantic  greylvanid,  she  bore  the  record  and 
butted  icebergs  between  Sandy  Hook  and 
Oueenstown  Lights,  they  called  it  the  Ladies 
B<'U<li'ir.  In  'oS  they  refitted  it  fur  the  coni- 
mantling  (»}"iicor  of  the  troops  ab(»ard.     A  p(  r- 


202  THE  SKNATUR  S  PLIGHT. 

tiere  hanging  iron^  :?  l)razen  rod  at  the  en- 
trance, swung  loosely  in  the  breeze,  and  be- 
liind  that  ]iendant  screen  this  gorgeous  summer 
evening,  just  as  the  sun  was  dipping  behind 
the  grim  barrier  of  the  westward  mountains, 
a  bluff  old  skipper  was  taking  a  parting  sip  of 
champagne  with  the  glad-eyed  soldier  for 
whose  convenience  the  white  launch  of  the 
C(jmmanding  general  was  already  cleaving  a 
way  through  the  sparkling  waters.  With 
them,  in  cool  white  raiment,  a  fragile  hand 
upon  her  sturdy  father's  arm,  stood  the  fair 
girl  whose  devotion  to  that  anxious  veteran, 
despite  her  own  deep  dread,  had  won  the  hon- 
est sailor's  enthusiastic  admiration  to  the  full 
as  much  as  had  her  delicate  beauty.  With 
raised  glass  he  was  talking  to  the  General  and 
looking  at  her  when  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of 
the  joyous  chatter  on  deck  there  was  heard 
the  unaccustomed  sound  of  a  crutch  and  a  hail 
of  welcome  to  some  unseen  "Dick" ;  whereat 
Miss  Harold  seemed  suddenly  to  lose  all  color 
— all  breath,  all  sense  of  what  her  nautical  ad- 
mirer was  saving;  and  when,  an  instant  later, 
there  came  a  tap  at  the  open  door  and  a  thin 
white  hand  at  the  curtain's  edge,  the  lady  as 


THE  SENATOR  S  PLIGHT.  203 

suddenly  spun  about,  with  a  lialf  stifled,  yet 
intense  cry  of  joy  intolerable,  dropped  her 
fatlier's  arm  and  was  caught  and  clasped  by 
two  others  that  held  her  close — closer  still  in 
spite  of  falling  crutch  and  failing  leg. 

Then  inarticulate  wonls  and  sobs  and — 
other  sounds  that  were  never  adequately  de- 
scribed and  never  can  be  really  imitated — 
warned  the  wondering  mariner  that  a  listener 
was  lost,  though  a  cause  was  won.  One  in- 
stant he  gazed  in  semi-stupefaction,  then  drew 
the  General  forward  into  his  own  little  den.  and 
another  curtain  fell  upon  the  scene. 


0  Ol> 


'    / 


/'I 


"  Pertnit  iiK-  ti)  restore  missing  property." 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE 
HORSESHOE. 


The  Limited  had  stopped  just  long  enough 
to  change   engines.     Mr.    Warren,   the  occu- 
pant   of    compartment     Xumber    Three,    had 
stepped  out  to  stretcli  his  legs  and  was  inter- 
ested to  see  a  very  pretty  girl  board  his  car, 
followed  by  a  youth  burdened  with  a  military 
overcoat   and  her  hand  luggage.     Mr.   War- 
ren's legs  were  long  and  the  stop  was  short. 
In  three  minutes  more  the  train  was  wdiistling 
through  the  suburbs  and  speeding  away  into 
the  night.     The  mountains  were  just  ahead, 
the  dining  car  just  behind.     Warren  stepped 
therein  one  moment,   found  every  table  occu- 
pied and  decided  to  wait  for  the  pretty  girl. 
Most  of  his  fellow  passengers  of  the  palatial 
Sublima    were    gone,    presumably    to    dinner, 
when  he  strolled  back  to  his  seat.  Two — three 
compartments    that   had   been  inhabited  as  he 
went  out  were  now  vacant  as  he  came  in.  but 


206  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

his  own  that  was  vacant  when  he  left  it.  was 
now  inhabited.  The  door  was  closed,  yet  not 
until  just  as  he  neared  it — closed  obviously  at 
the  moment  of,  and  possibly  because  of,  his 
coming.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  slender, 
daintily  gloved  hand,  the  hand  of  a  girl.  What 
on  earth  was  it  doing  there? 

To  be  insured  aganist  error  he  glanced  up 
at  the  number  on  the  glistening  little  plate 
above  the  door.  Three  beyond  all  shadow  of 
doubt.  He  ventured  to  turn  the  knob  and  the 
door  was  bolted  wathin.  Then  he  sought  the 
porter  who  for  his  part  had  sought  a  friend  in 
the  Alberta  just  ahead,  and  the  porter  was 
puzzled. 

"/  ain't  ])ut  any  lady  in  there,  sir,"  said  he. 
"The  young  lady  that  just  got  aboard  at 
'Toona  she  belongs  in  the  drawingroom.  But 
I'll  go  and  see  if  you  like,  sir." 

Thev  went  together  and  Number  Three's 
door  was  wide  open.  Number  Three  was 
empty.  Everything  was  as  he  left  it,  yet  he 
could  have  sworn  to  the  facts  above  stated. 
Then  he  sauntered  back  to  steal  a  peep,  if  pos- 
sible, at  the  hand  of  the  young  lady  who  be- 
longed in  the  drawingroom  and  got  it.  despite 


THE  LUCK  OF  THF.   HORSESHOE.  20J 

the  fact  that  its  door  seemed  closed  as  he 
neared  it.  This  time  it  opened — opened  ohvi- 
ously  at  the  nioment  and  possibly  because  of 
his  coniins;: — and  a  slender,  daintily-gloved 
hand,  the  hand  of  a  girl,  beckoned  to  him,  and 
a  silvery  voice  said.  "Xed.  come  here.  f|uick !" 
And  Xed  being  his  name  and  action  his  nature 
he  obeved.  entered  and  found  a  pretty  form, 
back  toward  him  now.  bending  over  a  handbag. 
"Where  on  earth."  said  the  silvery  voice, 
"did  V.  lu  put  my  portemonnaie?"  And  all 
manner  of  trifles  but  the  purse  came  dying 
out  up(Mi  the  seat. 

"Xowhere.  if  1  may  hazard  the  statement."' 
said  Mr.  Warren,  with  grave  courtesy,  yet 
with  certain  assurance,  if  noi  reassurance,  in 
his  tone.  Instantly  and  anything  but  placidly, 
the  lady  whirled  alxnit  and  a  pair  of  the  big- 
gest, bluest  eyes  in  Pennsylvania  stared  at  him 
astonished. 

••| — I    hegr    pardon."  said  she.  "I — I  called 

Xed." 

"I  beg  \'Oiir  pardon."  said  he.  "that's  why  I 
came.     I'm  called  Ned." 

••I — m —  mean  my  brother."  she  began,  with 
returning  composure  and  dignity. 


208  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

"And  I'm  mean  enough  to  rejoice  that, 
though  Ned,  I'm  not  brother,"  said  he,  with  a 
symptom  of  an  unrequitted  smile.  "But  you 
have  lost  your  purse  and  Ned.  Let  me  help 
you  find  them — Ned  first  in  relative  order  of 
importance.  Porter,  where' s  the  gentleman 
who  came  with  this  lady?" 

"Got  right  off  again,  sir; — said  he  forgot 
something.     I  tole  him  he  hadn't  time." 

"Why,  the  gateman  said  there  was  plenty," 
cried  the  damsel,  in  deep  distress.  "It  was 
only  a — friend  he  wanted  to  see — just  a  min- 
ute." 

"He  may  have  caught  the  rear  car,"  said 
the  porter,  sympathetically.  "I'll  run  back 
and  find  out." 

"If  he  hasn't  we'll  get  a  wire  from  him 
somewhere,  and  meantime  please  don't  worry. 
I  can't  replace  him,"  said  Warren,  "but,  per- 
mit me,  I  can  the  purse." 

"But  my  tickets,  baggage  checks,  every- 
thing  were  in  it,  and  it's  gone,"  cried  the  lady, 
tears  starting  to  the  beautiful  eyes,  "all  be- 
cause that  stupid  boy  would  run  back  to  speak 
to  a  girl." 

"They  do  make  a  lot  of  trouble,"  said  Mr. 


THE  LUCK  OF  Tllli:  HORSESHOE.  JOQ 

Warren,  reMectively.  "Vet  we  must  have 
them."  and  Mr.  Warren's  sensitive  hps  were 
twitching  under  his  sweeping  moustache.  He 
was  getting  too  much  fun  out  of  the  situation 
to  suit  her. 

''Boys,  you  mean."  said  she. 

"Girls  I  meant."  said  he.  a  quizzical  smile 
beginning  to  dawn  upon  his  face,  a  smile  that 
instantly  vanished  at  sight  of  the  vexation  if 
not  actual  worry  in  hers.  "Forgive  me.  I 
am  almost  old  enough  to  be  your  father,"  said 
he — He  had  just  turned  thirty-five — "The  por- 
ter will  find  your  brother,  if  not.  the  next  train 
will,  and  meantime  remember  that  you  are 
neither  purse — nor  Xed — less." 

The  Limited  was  scjuirming  up  the  Alle- 
ghenies  now,  two  monster  engines  panting  in 
the  lead.  The  Sublima  was  careening  a  bit  to 
the  right,  as  they  rounded  a  sharp  curve  and 
the  slender  hand  instinctively  reached  for 
something.  \\'arren  tendered  an  arm  in  sup- 
port. 

"These  curves  are  sharp  and  sudden  and 
numerous."  said  he.  "We  are  coming  to  the 
Horseshoe.  It  will  bring  yi«u  luck — Horse- 
shoes always  do,  you  know." 


2IO  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

'"Only  if  you  pick  them  up  on  the  road," 
said  slie. 

"Well,  didn't  you  pick? — no!  Oh,  here's 
the  porter!     Well,  porter?" 

"Gen'lm'n  didn't  get  aboard,  suh.  Waiter 
on  dining  car  said  he  saw  somebody  make  a 
run  just  as  vve  pulled  out,  but  he  was  way  be- 
hind. S'cuse  me.  This  is  Miss  Brinton, 
isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Blue  Eyes,  hopefully. 

"Yeas-sum.  Conductor  got  a  wire  saying 
drawing  room  was  held  for  you — everything 
else  was  taken.  The  Lieutenant  has  upper 
one.     Best  we  could  do  for  him." 

"Is  the  missing  Edward  an  officer  as  well  as 
otherwise  in  bonds?"  queried  Mr.  Warren, 
sympathetically. 

"He's  only  just  beginning,"  pouted  Miss 
Brinton,  "and  going  West  to  his  first  station, 
and  was  to  leave  me  at  Chicago,  but  he's  left 
already — and  so  am  I." 

School  girl  slang  is  unaccountably  pardon- 
able when  it  falls  from  pretty  lips.  The  gentle- 
man old  enough  to  be  her  father  wished  he 
might  hear  more. 

"We  have  sorrows    in    common,"  said  he. 


THE  LICK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  J  I  I 

whimsically.  "I.  too,  have  a  West  Point 
brother-in-arms.  'Brother  at  once  and  son.' 
Mine's  infantry  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
And  yours?" 

•"Tillery,"  promptly  replied  Miss  Brinton, 
with  proper  pride  in  the  superiority  of  her 
corps  colors  and  total  suppression  of  the  first 
syllable.  "What  is  your  brother's  name?  Per- 
haps Pve  met  him." 

"Warren,  F.  F. — which.  I'm  told,  means  at 
the  Point  'four  files  from  foot,'  otherwise 
Toots." 

"Tootsie  Warren"  cried  Miss  Brinton  de- 
lightedly. "Why  I  know  him — well !  You 
don't  mean  he's  your  brother?" 

"1  plead  guilty,"  said  the  man  of  thirty-five. 
"And  no  one  mourns  it  more  than  I — except 
Toots.  He  loves  me  like  a  stepfather.  Tell 
me.  Miss  Brinton,  is  Toots  ever  going  to 
amount  to  anything?" 

"Toots?  Oh,  why.  Toots  dances  well,  and 
draws  nicely." 

"Draws,"  said  Mr.  Warren,  reflectively. 
"Yes.  he  draws  remarkably.  He  drew  five 
hundred  the  eve  of  sailing  for  Manila. — one 
week's    expenses    in     San     Francisco — and    I 


212  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

fancy  he  must  dance  fairly  well  if  he  pays  the 
fiddler  at  that  rate.  What  1  like  about  Toots 
is  that  he  absolutely  can't  lie.  It  would  ruin 
him  in  my  business." 

"Politics?"  guessed  Miss  Brinton,  in  flatter- 
ing interest. 

"Pork,"  answered  Warren,  sententiously, 
"and  that  reminds  me.  May  I  be  pardoned 
for  a  suggestion?  We'll  soon  hear  from  the 
lieutenant.  Meantime  you  ought  to  be  hun- 
gry. I,  at  least,  am  hungry  as  a  bear.  Now, 
ril  be  Ned,  you  be  Toots  and  the  w^aiter  shall 
bless  our  compact  before  we  lose  the  Horse- 
shoe." 

She  hesitated — looked  down — then  up  into 
his  smiling  eyes,  and  presently  they  went.  Ten 
minutes  later  at  a  little  tete-a-tete  table  he  was 
making  her  forget  her  worriment  in  telling 
about  Toots  and  Ned  and  Ned's  Altoona 
sweetheart.  Ned  had  met  her  at  the  Point,  it 
seems;  had  been  corresponding  with  her  ever 
since,  had  coaxed  his  sister  to  stop  over  with 
him  just  one  day  on  their  westward  journey 
that  she  might  see  his  charmer  and  satisfy 
papa — mother  they  now  had  none, — and  papa 
was  to  meet  them  at  Chicago.     What  would 


THE  LrCK  OF  THE   HORSESHOE  JI3 

he  say  to  Xed?  When  could  a  telegram  reach 
her?  Warren  equivocated  with  the  ease  of 
«)ne  long  bred  to  the  Board  of  Trade.  He 
knew  they  made  no  stop  until  they  rolled  into 
Pittsburgh  at  nine  o'clock,  and  with  shameless 
tongiie  he  told  her  "the  very  next  station." 
rightly  reasoning  that  almost  any  answer 
would  (k>  until  after  dinner. 

Then  their  running  restaurant  leaned  to  the 
left.  and.  glancing  out,  he  saw  unfolding  in 
their  curxing  wake  the  arc  of  twinkling  lights 
across  some  deep,  black  gorge,  and  then  the 
white  gleaming  electrics  of  a  passenger  train 
gliding  down  the  opposite  mountain  side,  al- 
most parallel  with  their  present  course.  "It's 
the  Horeshoe  Curve,"  said  he.  "Look  out  and 
see  it.  and  let  us  wish  Xed  and  his  Nanette 
real  horseshoe  luck." 

"And  Toots,  too,"  she  said,  beaming  up  in- 
to his  genial,  animated  face.  "Oh.  what 
zcould  I  have  done  if  I  hadn't — taken  you  for 
Xed!"  Then  in  sudden  confusion — "I — I 
mean — " 

"Xever  mind."  laughed  Warren,  delight- 
edly. "\'ou'vc  taken  me  for  Xed.  which  1  am. 
Mav  vou  never  wish  me  anvthine — less." 


214  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

And  SO,  joyously,  the  early  winter  evenin<^ 
sped  away.  The  loss  of  a  brother  is  soon  for- 
gotten in  the  finding  of  a  friend.  They  lin- 
gered in  the  brightly  lighted  car,  shooting 
down  the  westward  slope  of  the  Alleghenies 
and  following  the  windings  of  the  Conemaugh, 
foaming  far  beneath  them.  She  told  him  of 
her  school  days,  barely  over,  and  her  home  in 
Illinois,  and  of  papa,  a  magnate  in  the  business 
world  well  kn(own  to  him.  She  confessed  to 
being  nineteen,  and  then,  as  the  conductor 
came  through.  Warren  had  brief  conference 
with  that  official,  assuming  charge  in  the  event 
of  no  telegraphic  instructions  from  "The 
Road,"  inspired  by  the  belated  Ned,  and  fin- 
ally they  went  back  to  the  Sublima  a  little 
while  before  the  Limited  brought  up  standing 
at  Pittsburg,  and  never  had  there  been  in  his 
life  a  shorter  evening.  Then  and  there  the 
telegraph  messenger  came  aboard  with  des- 
patches, and,  as  Warren  prophesied,  there  was 
one  from  Brother  Ned. 

"Go  right  ahead.  Father  will  meet  you. 
Coming  next  train.  Conductor  instructed  by 
wire." 

"Go  right  ahead!     The  idea!  How  can  I, — 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  _' 1  5 

without  money  or  anything?  That  sttipid 
boy's  so  desperately  in  love.  He's  just  glad 
to  be  left  with  Nanette  another  day, — and  my 
purse  in  his  pocket  all  the  time!" 

"Sure  about  that?"  queried  Warren,  who 
had  sisters  of  his  own. 

"Sure?  Of  course  I  am!  I  meant  tu  put 
it  in  my  bag.  but  Ned  never  thought  to  hand 
it  back." 

"And  vou're  sure  you  never  had  it.-"  \ou've 
looked — pardon  me — in  the  other  compart- 
ments?" 

"What  other  compartment?  Why.  this  is 
the  only  one  I've  been  in." 

"Then  you  weren't  for  a  moment — in  Num- 
ber Three?" 

"I  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  ran  out  in  the  vesti- 
bule to  get  a  peep  at  Ned  and  Nanette.  Why 
do  you  ask?" 

"H'm."  said  Warren,  reflectively,  thinking 
of  the  dainty  hand  at  the  door.  "I  probably 
imagined  it." 

"Now.  either  Master  Ned  meant  to  get  left 
or  this  little  woman  is  egregiously  mistaken," 
mused  that  gentleman,  later.  The  draw- 
ingroom     had     been     made     ready     for     the 


2l6  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

young-  lady's  occupancy  for  the  night,  and 
Warren,  after  begging  permission  to  take  her 
to  breakfast  in  the  inorning.  had  discreetly 
wished  her  pleasant  dreams  and  wandered  oft* 
to  his  own  compartment.  Altoona  officials 
had  verified  Lieutenant  Ned's  tickets  and 
wired  the  necessary  instructions.  That  being 
settled  Warren  had  curled  himself  in  a  corner 
of  Number  Three  and  given  himself  up  to 
thought.  There  was  something  odd  about 
this  matter  that  he  could  not  fathom.  There 
were,  to  be  sure,  other  feminines  aboard — 
There  was  a  very  stylish  woman  of  uncertain 
years,  slender  and  presentable,  in  Number 
Five,  for  instance.  She  had  come  in  to  din- 
ner with  her  husband,  a  man  turned  fifty,  but 
they  kept  to  themselves.  Their  compartment 
was  closed  when  he  and  ]Miss  Brinton  returned 
from  the  "diner",  and,  as  he  thought  it  all 
over,  something  possessed  him  to  look  out  into 
the  corridor.  Compartment  Five  was  closed 
now,  yet  a  tall  man  in  ti"aveling  suit  was  gently 
trying  the  d(X)r.  At  sight  of  Warren  he 
calmly  sauntered  away. 

The   Ohio   was   left   behind.     The   Limited 
was  breasting  the    grades    across  the  Beaver. 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  _' I  7 

The  porter  came  round  to  know  if  Mr.  Warren 
woukl  have  his  berth  made  down  (or  up). 
Warren  said  "presently",  opened  his  bag  for 
a  book  and  caught  sight  of  something  stuffed 
into  the  crevice  between  the  back  and  the  seat 
— a  lady's  portmonnaie.  It  was  of  seaJskin, 
soft  and  fine,  edged  and  bound  with  silver  and 
embellished  with  the  letters  L.  \'.  B. — Laura 
\'.  Brinton  beyond  a  doubt. 

And  yet  she  had  declared  she  had  set  foot 
in  no  c».»mpartment  but  her  own.  The  little — 
prevaricator ! 

It  was  too  late  to  disturb  her,  Warren 
slipped  the  portemonnaie  into  a  breast  pocket 
and  went  for  a  cigar  and  a  sip  of  Stout.  It 
would  hardly  do  to  mention  the  discovery  to 
the  porter.  He.  too.  had  heard  Miss  Brinton's 
positi\e  statement  that  she  had  entered  no  com- 
l)artment  but  her  own.  Under  the  circum- 
stances he  couldn't  bring  himself  to  tell  any- 
VkkW.  It  was  after  eleven  when  he  returned 
and  there  v.as  that  tall  man  in  traveling  suit 
again,  hovering  about  Number  Five,  and  again 
the  tall  man  strolled  away.  With  the  jiorte- 
monnaie  in  a  waistcoat  pocket  under  his  pil- 
low. Warren  went  to  sleej).     "Til  give  it  to  her 


2l8  THE  JACK  OK  TJIK   llUK^^hSllOE. 

after  breakfast  when  nobody's  looking,"  said 
he.  He  hated  somehow  to  think  how  confused 
she  would  be.  even  though  he  need  not  tell  her 
where  he  found  it. 

They  were  in  Chicago,  with  breakfast  over, 
though  still  half  an  hour  from  the  station  be- 
fore opportunity  served.  He  had  been  awake 
since  dawn — a  vexed  spirit.  He  had  vastly 
admired  that  blithe,  beautiful  girl,  thrown  by 
chance  across  his  way.  His  life  for  years  had 
been  hard  and  practical.  The  death  of  his 
father,  bankrupt  after  a  squeeze  to  the  Chicago 
market,  had  left  him  w'hen  a  boy  of  eighteen 
with  the  care  of  his  mother,  two  younger  sis- 
ters and  curly-haired,  merry  little  Toots,  a  mis- 
chief loving  urchin  of  three.  Valiantly  had 
Ned  ^^^arren  buried  every  personal  hope  and 
ambition  and  sturdily  had  he  gone  to  work  to 
keep  a  roof  over  their  heads  and  the  wolf  from 
the  door.  Never  had  he  let  himself  think  of 
himself.  Life  was  all  duty.  Toil,  frugality 
and  stern  self-denial  had  borne  their  fruit,  and 
at  thirty-five,  home  and  comforts  and  fortune 
all  had  been  earned  for  those  the  father  had 
left  helpless  in  the  hands  of  the  eldest  son. 
Both  girls  were    now    well    married    and  the 


THE  Ll'CK  OF  THE  liOKSKSl  lOE.  J  1  9 

mother  still  lived  to  enjoy  the  handsome  house 
he  gave  her.  Toots  had  at  last  achie\ed  his 
darling-  ambition,  and  after  five  years  of  close 
shaves  and  narrow  escapes  had  wriggled 
through  the  final  exams  at  the  Point.  All  liad 
had  life  smoothed  and  Messed  for  them.  He 
alone. — the  benefactor — was  lonely. 

And  as  the  Limited  climbed  and  pierced  and 
then  coasted  down  the  Alleghenies  through  the 
early  hours  of  the  December  night  just  gone 
bv,  and  he  had  sat  there  in  the  warm,  well- 
lighted,  cosey  dining  car,  with  fresh  flowers 
overhanging  the  dainty  crystal  and  china  and 
snow  white  napery.  with  that  fresh,  fair,  smil- 
ing face  beaming  so  trustfully  up  into  his.  a 
dream  so  long  forbidden  that,  through  force  of 
habit,  it  had  well  nigh  ceased  to  live,  now  stole 
over  his  spirit  and  would  not  sleep  again. 
Stern  slave  of  the  lamp  that  he  had  been,  he 
shut  out  every  thought  of  love  and  home  life 
of  his  own.  but  that  face,  that  merry  laugh, 
that  sweet,  low.  musical  voice  had  spurred  his 
d<jrmant  nature  to  instant  and  vehement  life. 
He  so  loved  what  was  gentle,  refined,  beauti- 
ful in  woman.  He  so  craved  a  heartmate, — a 
home — of  his  own.     TT(>  ^^  rH'""'"'''!  ''^  '-very- 


220  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

thing  slic  did  and  looked  and  said — everything 
except  just  one — just  one.  He  who  had  so 
whimsically  spoken  of  Toot's  blunt  propensity 
for  truth  as  being  disastrous  to  trade  was  yet 
a  man  to  whom  a  lie  was  a  thing  abhorrent. 
And  she  had  wilfully,  unnecessarily  declared 
she  had  never  entered  his  compartment.  Yet, 
had  he  not  seen? — did  he  not  know?  Was 
not  here,  in  her  portemonnaie,  the  proof  ? 

He  could  not  bear  to  give  it  to  her  until  the 
last  moment.  He  C(juld  not  bear  to  see  in  that 
lovely,  innocent  face  the  blush  of  shame,  or 
worse,  the  stony  insolence  of  renewed  denial 
that  must  follow  his  restoration  of  the  porte- 
monnaie. She  must  know  where  he  had  found 
it.  At  Archer  A\enue  when  they  stopped  a 
few  seconds,  a  gray-haired,  distinguished  look- 
ing stranger  boarded  the  train,  and  to  his  arms 
she  flew,  delightedly.  Then  with  beaming 
eyes  presented  Mr.  \\'arren.  "I  am  under  a 
thousand  obligations."  began  Mr.  Brinton.  "I 
have  had  an  anxious  night  since  the  coming  of 
Ned's  message,"  he  began. 

"O,  papa !  Air.  Warren  can  fully  sympa- 
thize with  you.  He's  Toots  Warren's  brother. 
You  remember  Toots  last  summer  at  the  Point 


THE  LLCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  221 

— Xed's  classmate.  .\n(l  yoii  must  settle  with 
Mr.  Warren,  please — Xed  ran  off  with  my 
purse — Antl  you  must  tip  the  porter  and  you 
must  ask  Mr.  Warren  to  dinner.'' 

And  then  Warren  saw  the  way  to  restoring 
that  i>urse.  without  giving  it  to  her.  Just  be- 
fore they  parted  at  the  Canal  Street  station  and 
while  Miss  Brinton  was  being  placed  in  the 
waiting  carriage  with  her  array  of  hand  lug- 
gage— her's  and  Xed's — Warren  slipped  the 
purse  into  the  paternal  hand.  "Pray  give  it," 
saivl  he,  "after  you  get  home.  Miss  Brinton 
thinks  your  son  has  it."  And  then  Brinton 
pcrc  was  hurried  in  and  the  carriage  off  to 
make  room  for  others.  There  was  just  time 
for  a  word. 

"The  lloreshoe  brought  me  the  best  of 
luck."  cried  the  sweet,  clear  voice,  as  a  beam- 
ing, wins'jme,  beautiful  face  peered  back  at 
him.  nt)dding,  smiling,  tormenting,  when  the 
carriage  whirled  away.  And  then  Warren 
turned  to  his  cab,  too  full  of  that  face  to  note 
the  next  part}'  lx)arding  another  carriage — a 
very  stylishly  dressed — indeed  overdressed — 
woman  whose  face  was  closely  veiled,  a  rubi- 
cund man  of  fifty  odd,  a  tall  citizen  in  heavy 


222  TllK  lACK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

ulster  close  following.  It  was  that  face,  only 
that  face  that  Warren  took  away  to  his  busy 
oflice,  that  peered  between  him  and  the  pages 
of  his  letters  and  ledgers  all  that  day  and  the 
next.  "I  shall  see  it  again,"  said  he,  "at 
dinner." 

But  the  week  went  out  without  the  invita- 
tion. The  Brinton's,  who  remained  three  days 
at  the  y\nnex,  left  without  a  sign. 

"She  thought  better  of  that  dinner  and 
worse  of  me,"  said  Warren  to  himself,  "when 
she  found  I  had  discovered  her  purse  and  her 
fib  at  the  same  time."  And  so,  wounded,  he 
had  gone  back  to  his  work. 

When  next  Mr.  Edmund  Warren  saw  the 
Horseshoe  he  was  again  Eastward  bound,  and 
he  looked  with  gloomy  eyes.  For  once  the 
grandeur  of  the  scene  had  lost  its  charm.  It  was 
some  months  later,  and  though  never  once  had 
he  seen  or  heard  of  Miss  Brinton,  never  yet 
had  her  face  been  forgotten.  This  radiant 
sunshiny  morning  as  he  looked  out  over  the 
glorious  vista  of  mountain  and  valley,  he  was 
thinking  sorely  of  that  evening  ride  on  the 
Limited — of  all  the  gladness  that  seemed  to 
press  into  four  blithe  hours,  only  to  be  blotted 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  223 

out.     And  then  the  porter  sauntered  over  for 
a  word. 

••"Member  that  last  time  you  went  West  with 
us,  Mr.  Warren. — night  the  youns^  lady's  brud- 
der  got  let"  at  Toona?" 

Warren  wasn't  thinking  of  anything  else. 
"]\[\,  but  dat  old  gentlm'n  was  hot  'bout  her 
pocketbook,  suh !" 

•*How  S"'"'  asked  Warren  in  sudden 
interest. 

•"All  the  money  was  gone  when  she  got  it 
back — over  hundred  dollars!  Oh.  I  tole  'em 
\ou  were  all  right — 't'want  you,  though  you 
didn't  tell  mc  you  found  it.  It  might  have 
gone  hard,  suh,  wid  some  of  us.  tho',  for  de 
Company  just  ramsacked  everybody  t'well  dey 
found  out  'bout  dem  crooks." 
•'What  crooks?" 

••Lady  and  genTman,  suh. — had  Number 
Five.  Dey  was  •wanted'  in  Chicago  and  de- 
tective come  along  with  'em  all  de  way  from 
New  York,  'n  they  never  'spected  nothing 
t'well  dey  got  r)ff  de  train.  Dey  had  money  to 
burn." 

•  And  they  had  robbed  Miss  Brinton?" 
'•Ve-cs.  suh."  chuckled  the  .\frican.     "P.ut 


224  'i'ilE  LUCK  OF  TllJi  JlUKSESllOE. 

Mr. — Mr.  Brinton,  first  off,  said  't'was  you. 
You  must  have  had  the  purse  all  night." 

"Merciful  Powers!"  thought  Warren,  "and 
all  because  I  couldn't  bear  to  confront  her  with 
the  proof  of  her — tarradiddle." 

Little  by  little,  between  the  conductor  and 
the  porter,  he  dragged  forth  the  whole  story. 
Brinton,  senior,  had  forgotten  the  purse  until 
Lieutenant  Ned  arrived  on  Number  21  at  three 
in  the  afternoon.  Within  an  hour  thereafter 
the  old  gentleman  appeared  at  the  station,  full 
of  wrath,  to  declare  his  daughter  had  been 
robbed  on  the  Sublima.  There  was  time  for 
only  brief  investigation  before  the  Limited 
started  out  on  the  evenmg  run  back  to  New 
York.  Both  conductor  and  porter  had  stoutly 
declared  their  confidence  in  Mr.  Warren's  in- 
tegrity, but  Brinton  was  still  unconvinced.  At 
the  end  of  the  week,  when  they  again  reached 
Chicago,  the  rest  of  the  story  came  out.  Three 
days  after  the  loss  the  Company  were  after 
the  couple  shadowed  by  the  tall  detective — 
also  the  shadower,  who  had  come  aboard  only 
just  as  the  Limited  left  Jersey  City  on  the 
morning  of  her  start.  Then  the  police  ad- 
mitted that  two  noted  criminals  had  been  cap- 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  IIORSKmioi,. 


--D 


turetl  at  a  north  side  residence  an  iK.ur  after 
their  cominf^  to  Chicago,  and  then  Papa  Brin- 
ton's  investigation  came  to  an  end.  Laura's 
money  was  doubtless  part  of  the  sum  found  in 
the  possession  of  the  pair.  Then  Brinton  took 
his  daughter  home. 

That  was  December.  Now  it  was  nearly 
April,  and  one  day  there  came  a  missive  from 
Brother  Toots,  written  in  the  mud  and  mailed 
at  Manila. 

"De.\r  Old  Ned: — 

I  gave  all  the  news  to  mother,  so  see  her  letter.  We 
go  out  on  'nother  hike  to-night,  and  Tve  only  time  for  a 
word.  Ned  Brinton  says  his  father  wants  to  see  you 
next  time  he  gets  to  Chicago — wants  to  explain  some- 
thing— can't  make  out  what.  Ned  won't  tell,  but  it's 
something  about  some  monev  you  lent  that  awfully 
pretty  sister  of  his  when  Ned  got  left.  He's  rabid  to 
go  home  and  marry  that  Altoona  girl,  and  he  can't  ask 
for  leave  until  this  business  is  wound  up.  Ned  says 
his  sister  says  you  were  "just  lovely  to  her",  and  papa 
hadn't  properly  thanked  you  and  it  was  partly  her  fault 
and — well.  I  can't  make  it  all  out.  but  Ned  says  she's 
written  to  him  no  less  than  three  letters  about  it.  and 
that's  more  thought  than  she  bestows  on  any  of  us. 
Just  send  a  line  to  the  old  chap,  will  you.  and  let  him 
know  where  he  can  find  you.  When  is  that  .March 
interest  coming? 

Yours. 
"Toots." 


226  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

\Varren's  cheek  burned.  "She  thought  me 
a  thief"  he  growled  to  himself,  "and  I  thought 
her  a  fibber !"  Next  day  he  was  away  from  Chi- 
cago again,  bound  northward,  and  on  a  soft 
April  evening  set  foot  at  Melton  Station.  He 
went,  too,  unannounced.  He  had  not  sent  a 
line  to  the  "old  chap,"  as  Toots  suggested. 
It  was  the  old  chap's  business  to  send  a  line  to 
him.  if.  as  the  railway  people  declared,  he  had 
ever  said  he  believed  Warren  had  purloined 
his  daughter's  money.  That-  matter  was  now 
easily  explained. 

When  Miss  Brinton  stepped  out  to  the  ves- 
tibule, leaving  her  satchel  unguarded  and  un- 
locked, it  was  an  easy  matter  for  the  enterpris- 
ing occupant  of  Number  Five  to  seize  the  mo- 
ment when  almost  everybody  was  out  of  the 
car,  and  then  the  purse, — to  dart  into  the  va- 
cant Number  Three,  little  expecting  Warren 
to  return  at  once  from  the  dining  car  whither 
her  male  companion  declared  him  to  have 
gone.  His  sudden  coming  well  nigh  caught 
her,  but  she  barred  him  out,  rightly  guessing 
he  would  go  for  the  porter.  Then  she  stuffed 
the  ravished  portemonnaie  deep  down  in  the 
crevice,  and,  richer  by  one  hundred  dollars  or 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  J27 

more,  slipped  back  to  her  own  seat,  and  was 
all  demure  innocence  a  moment  later. 

But  in  tiiat  moment's  work  she  had  thrown 
suspicion  on  two  honest  souls.  Edmund  War- 
ren supposed  on  'Change  to  have  no  higher 
aim  in  life  than  the  sale  of  unlimited  pork,  and 
Miss  Laura  Brinton  who,  prior  to  that  even- 
ing's ride  u})  Horseshoe  Curve,  had  been  as 
fancy  free  as  a  child. 

No.  Warren  sent  no  warning  of  his  com- 
ing. In  fact  he  was  not  seeking  Brinton 
perc.  He  longed  to  see  that  other  face  again, 
and  believed  he  knew  a  way.  Inquiry  of  a 
business  associate  had  developed  the  fact  that 
it  was  Miss  Brinton's  almost  daily  habit  to 
drive  in  to  the  post  office  for  the  evening  mail, 
and  he  swung  away  at  sturdy  pace  over  the 
winding  highroad  in  the  direction  of  the  Brin- 
ton homestead.  It  lay  but  a  mile  from  the 
pretty  town  and  on  the  borders  of  the  great 
lake.  His  satchel  he  left  at  the  station,  his 
stick  he  swung  in  his  hand.  "Look  out  for  a 
])haeton  with  bay  ponies,"  he  told  his  eyes,  but 
before  he  had  put  half  a  mile  between  himself 
and  the  station  something  glinted  in  the  slant- 
ing sunbeams,  and   there  at  the  edge  of  the 


228  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

roadway  shone  a  shapely  little  horseshoe. 
He  stooped,  picked  it  up.  put  it  in  his  sack 
coat  pocket  and  faced  about.  That  shoe  had 
told  its  story.  The  pony  team  had  already 
gone  to  town. 

When,  perhaps  a  dozen  minutes  later,  he 
saw  coming-  toward  him  over  a  rise  in  the  road 
a  stylish  pair  of  miniature  bays,  his  heart  gave 
a  leap,  and  so  did  he, — to  the  shelter  of  some 
roadside  shrubbery.  Peering  from  this  coign 
of  vantage  he  saw  that  the  off  side  pony  was 
favoring  his  right  hind  foot,  and  that  settled 
the  matter.  With  the  shoe  uplifted  in  one 
hand,  his  derby  in  the  other,  Mr.  Warren 
stepped  out  into  the  highway,  the  fair  chario- 
teer threw  her  weight  back  on  the  reins,  a 
small  tiger  sprang  to  the  ponies'  heads  and 
took  the  bits  under  advisement.  The  lady, 
despite  herself,  blushed  vividly  with  surprise 
and  pleasure,  but,  "Why,  Mr.  Warren!"  was 
all  she  said. 

"Permit  me  to  restore  missing  property," 
said  he.  "Not  the  portemonnaie  this  time,  but 
the  portc-bonJieur." 

The  blush  deepened,  "Who  told  you?"  said 
she. 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE.  22^ 

"The  pony."  said  lie.  "This  cne,"  and  re- 
placing his  Derby,  he  gave  the  little  fellow  a 
reassuring  pat. 

"I  mean — about  tiic  portemonnaie." 

"What  about  it  ?" 

"You've  heard — about  its — being — etnptied 
— before  you  had  a  chance — " 

"I  did  have  a  chance.  I  had  it  all  night," 
and  Mr.  Warren's  lips  were  twitching  provok- 
ingly,  as  his  eyes  eagerly  feasted  on  her  sweet, 
blushing  face. 

"I  mean."  said  Miss  Brinton.  tlicking  at  the 
dust  with  her  long  whip,  "to  return  it,  of 
course.  r"*apa  made — so  much  trouble.  I  was 
afraid  you  heard!" 

"I  did  hear  eventually — Xed  and  Toots — " 

"Oh,  those  wretched  boys ! — what  will  they 
say  next?" 

"They  said  I  should  sue  papa  for  damages." 

"Mr.   Warren! — You   wouldn't — He's — " 

"Miss  Brinton,  I  shall.  I've  decided  once 
and  for  all.     I  shall  bring  suit — at  once." 

**0,  Mr.  Warren !  It  was  all  my  fault. — 
my  carelessness — my  stupidity.  I'm  awfully 
sorry!  Can't  I  settle  it  in  some  way?  I've 
wantctl  to  say  so  ever  so  long." 


230  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  HORSESHOE. 

"And  I've  wanted  to  hear  you.  In  fact  I 
wanted  to  have  you — in  fact  I  still  want  to 
have  you — Indeed  you're  the  only  one  who  can 
settle  it !" 

And  then  she  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  half 
startled,  half  joyous,  and  then — all  seeing,  the 
soft  eyes  fell  again,  and  though  his  hands  were 
trembling,  he  laid  the  little  horseshoe  in  her 
lap  and  stepped  quickly  to  her  side. 

"You  have  not  decided  about  the  journey," 
he  was  saying,  as  he  bent  over  that  bonny, 
beautiful  head  one  summer  evening,  a  few 
months  later. 

"There's  only  one  point  about  it  that  I  wish 
to  decide,"  she  answered,  smilingly.  "It  isn't 
where  we  go.  It's  the  way  we  come — home- 
ward. Ned,  I  picked  you  up,  as  you  say, 
twice.  Almost  any  day  we  can  come  past  the 
old  mile  post  here  at  home,  but  I  want  to  come 
again — where  I  found  my  luck — by  way  of  the 
Horseshoe  Curve." 


■- 1, 


flf 


'M 


/ 


A  CAMERA  CAPTURE. 


She  was  aboard  the  express  steamer, 
Deutscher  Kaiser,  bound  from  Cologne  for 
Mayence.  the  gay  June  morning  he  first  set 
eyes  on  her,  but  she  rewarded  his  gaze  of  un- 
deniable admiration  by  landing  at  Bonn.  She 
was  accompanied  by  a  silvery-haired  gentle- 
woman, obviously  an  invalid  and  apparently 
her  n;iother,  reinforced  by  a  middle-aged  per- 
son, half  nurse,  half  general  utility  woman, 
and  commanded  by  a  fourth  personage  obvi- 
ously austere  to  the  world  at  large  and  dom- 
ineering to  her  kith  and  kin.  The  girl  was 
pretty  (the  prettiest  things  to  be  seen  in  the 
Rhineland  are  the  .\nierican  girls),  the  mother 
pathetic,  the  maid  unsympathetic,  and  the 
maiden  aunt — portentous.  The  run  from  the 
Dom-centering  streets  of  the  old  Gemian  city 
to  the  academic  shades  of  Bonn  is  but  a  short 
one.  but  it  was  long  enough  to  indulge  Mr. 


MAP 

or 

FOLD 

-OUT 
here 


A  CAMERA  CAPTURE. 


Slie  was  aboard  the  express  steamer, 
Deiitscher  Kaiser,  bound  from  Cologne  for 
Mayence,  the  gay  June  morning  he  first  set 
eyes  on  her,  but  she  rewarded  his  gaze  of  un- 
deniable admiration  by  landing  at  Bonn.  She 
was  accompanied  by  a  silvery-haired  gentle- 
woman, obviously  an  invalid  and  apparently 
her  niother.  reinforced  by  a  middle-aged  per- 
son, half  nurse,  half  general  utility  woman, 
and  o^mmanded  by  a  fourth  personage  obvi- 
f)usly  austere  to  the  world  at  large  and  dom- 
ineering to  her  kith  and  kin.  The  girl  was 
pretty  (the  prettiest  things  to  be  seen  in  the 
Rhineland  are  the  American  girls),  the  mother 
pathetic,  the  maid  unsympathetic,  and  the 
maiden  aunt — portentous.  The  run  from  the 
Dom-centering  streets  of  the  old  Gemian  city 
to  the  academic  shades  of  Bonn  is  but  a  short 
one,  but  it   was  long  enough  to  indulge   Mr. 


2^2  A    CAMERA    CAPTURE. 

Lcc  in  a  dclil^cratc  study  of  Miss  Beveridge, 
from  the  tip  of  the  j.crt  feather  in  lier  tourist 
hat  to  the  toe  of  her  trim  and  dainty  boot ;  long 
enough  to  inspire  iiim  with  more  longing — 
with  longing  to  know  her.  with  interest  in  the 
invalitl.  and  with  instinctive  antipathy  to  the 
maiden  aunt.  He,  too,  was  abroad  for  his 
health,  recuperating  from  a  wound  received  in 
front  of  Santiago  the  year  Ijefore;  a  wound 
that,  followed  by  malarial  fever,  had  well-nigh 
wrecked  him.  Tw^ice  had  he  caught  the  dam- 
sel's eye,  a  thing  that  rejoiced  him  unduly,  for 
he  did  not  see  it  was  the  little  tricolored  button 
in  his  left  lapel,  rather  than  the  wearer,  that 
attracted  her.  The  second  time  she  blushed, 
but  it  was  from  annoyance  at  being  caught,  not 
from  maidenly  confusion.  He  had  been  look- 
ing forward  with  eagerness  to  seeing  the  Sie- 
ben  Gebirge  close  at  hand  and  wondering  what 
on  earth  the  Deutschlanders  saw  in  such 
diminutive  upheavals  to  warrant  the  name  of 
"mountain ;"  but  he  turned  from  them  in  dis- 
appointment and  did  not  even  rally  as  they 
neared  the  confluence  of  the  Moselle,  with 
mysterious  Ehrenbreitstein  frowming  on  them 
on  the  one  hand  r.nd  Coblent/'  nestling  like  a 


A    CAMERA    CAPTl'RE.  J^^ 

toy  town  on  the  opposite  shore — and  all  be- 
cause Miss  Beveridge  had  left  the  boat  at 
Bonn. 

She  was  aboard  a  wheel  the  next  time  he 
saw  her  and  they  met  face  to  face  on  a  terrace 
overlooking  the  Rhine.  She  had  a  camera 
slung  over  her  shoulder,  and  the  middle-aged 
maid  wobbled  unsteadily  on  another  wheel  a 
few  yards  behind.  Lee  had  a  camera  over  his 
shoulder,  but  no  other  incumbrances.  The 
recognition — of  the  girl  on  his  part,  of  the 
button  on  hers — was  instantaneous.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  from  his  seat  on  the  waist- 
high  wall  and  whipped  off  his  tourist  cap.  She 
bowed  gravely  in  return,  and  her  glance  was 
at  the  Initt.ui,  n..t  at  him.  and  this  time  he 
realized  it. 

She  wheeled  onward  to  a  point  where  the 
road  began  a  zigzag  climb.  There  she  dis- 
mcmnted.  light  as  a  bird.  The  maid  followed 
suit,  light  as  a  cow.  and  together  th.e  two 
ascended  the  steps  to  a  platform  above,  leav- 
ing their  wlieels  at  the  roadside  under  the  dis- 
tant and  martial  eye  of  a  smart  little  Prussian, 
picklchaube-crested  sentry  at  an  elongated  box 


234  A    CAMERA    CAPTURE. 

Standing  on  end  and  striped  like  a  barber's 
pole. 

Lee  had  felt  unequal  to  a  climb  even  to  see 
the  sights  of  Ehrenbreitstein.  Now  he  decided 
that  duty,  as  a  discharged  volunteer  staff  offi- 
cer of  Uncle  Sam.  recjuired  of  him  study  of 
permanent  fortifications.  Technically  he 
didn't  know  a  demilune  from  a  ditch,  but 
neither  did  she. 

When  Mr.  Lee  reached  the  upper  platform 
and  saw  the  blue  Rhine  twisting  through  the 
southward  hills,  spanned  by  the  graceful  rail- 
way bridge  above  Coblentz  and  dotted  with 
boats  and  barges  of  every  kind,  he  bethought 
him  of  his  camera  as  an  excuse  for  being  there, 
and  took  two  snapshots  up  the  world-renowned 
valley,  hardly  taking  his  eyes,  however,  off  the 
girl.  Then  he  noted  that  a  picturesque  party 
of  officers,  just  in  from  drill  of  some  kind,  was 
filled  with  interest  in  Miss  Beveridge,  who,  un- 
conscious of  their  voluble  admiration,  was  lost 
in  contemplation  of  the  legend-haunted  stream. 
It  is  believed  that  in  love  and  in  war  most  Con- 
tinental militaires  consider  themselves  invin- 
cible. There  were  six  in  this  squad,  slim- 
waisted,  sandy-haired,  straw-mustached  young 


A    CAMERA    CAPTrRK. 


-0^ 


fellows — tip-top  soldiers,  too.  ready  to  drink 
or  die  for  their  X'atcrlantl  at  drop  of  the  hat, 
but  a  bit  asinine,  none  the  less,  where  pretty 
girls  were  concerned.  They  assumed  her  un- 
consciousness to  be  feigned,  and.  halting  at 
the  turn  of  the  roatl.  regardless  of  the  indigna- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  the  dragon,  her  attendant, 
began  audible  attempts  to  attract  her  attention. 
Lee  was  fifty  yards  away,  but  he  could  hear, 
and.  firing  up  like  the  scion  of  three  genera- 
tions of  Yankee  soldiers  that  he  was.  started 
for  the  group,  stick  in  hand  and  blood  in  his 
eye. 

They  were  standing,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
at  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps  leading  to  still 
another  level.  The  sun,  well  up  in  the  south, 
shone  full  upon  their  burnished  helmets  and 
shoulder  scales  and  on  the  massive  wall  at 
their  back,  over  the  crest  of  which  jieeped 
the  black  muzzles  of  certain  of  Krup])'s 
masterpieces.  Miss  Beveridge,  twenty  paces 
beyond  them,  could  not  but  hear  their  deuKMi- 
strative  coughs,  could  hardly  mistake  their  ob- 
ject, yet  placidly  she  contiiuied  her  survey  as 
though  deaf  to  every  sound.  Then  suddenly, 
before   Lee  could   reach   them,   the  clatter  of 


236  A    CAMERA    CAPTURE. 

scabbards,  the  sputter  of  shod  hoofs  smote  up- 
on the  car.  and  coming  at  sharp  canter  round 
the  turn  of  the  road  was  a  general  officer  with 
a  group  of  aides  and  orderHes.  Instantly  the 
sextette  shriveled  into  statues.  Six  white- 
gloved  hands  went  up  in  salute  to  six  brass- 
bound  visors.  Six  pairs  of  heels  clamped 
tight  together  and  six  slim- waist ed.  short- 
skirted  subalterns  gazed  adoringly  at  the  high. 
well-born,  royal  Prussian-fortress  inspector's- 
commandant's-general ;  damsel  and  dragon 
both  forgotten. 

As  for  Miss  Beveridge,  in  all  the  fearless 
innocence  of  maiden  America — a  land  where- 
in there  lives  no  military  regulation  the  sov- 
ereign citizen  may  not  trample  under  foot — 
she  quickly  unslung  her  camera,  quickly  took 
aim  at  the  brilliant  and  most  characteristic 
Prussian  group;  snap  went  the  slide  as  she 
touched  the  button,  and  so — brought  on  the 
arrest. 

From  the  battlements  of  Ehrenbreitstein 
Prussia  fears  no  foe.  but  scares  at  a  camera. 
To  take  so  much  as  a  snapshot  at  so  much  of  a 
fortress  as  can  be  seen  through  a  baby  camera 
renders  the  taker  liable  to  be  taken,  perhaps, 


A    CAMERA    CAl   !  L  Kl..  JjJ 

for  a  spy.  The  General  didn't  sec,  for  his 
back  was  toward  her  as  he  galloped  away.  The 
subs  didn't  see,  for  they  were  temporarily  ab- 
sorbed in  him — they  had  to  be  or  suffer  arrest 
in  (luariers.  lUit  a  sentry  had  seen  both  Lee 
and  the  h^raeulein  Americaner  and  was  tjawl- 
ing  for  some  functionary  of  the  guard. 

The  first  thing  Miss  Beveridge  knew,  as  the 
dust  cleared  away,  a  young  man  in  tourist  garb 
was  at  her  side,  holding  forth  a  camera. 

"Change  with  me — please — quick  I"  quuth 
he. 

•"What  for?"  said  she  wiih  wide  open  blue 
eyes  and  no  little  resentmeni  in  tone.  What 
business  had  he  to  accost  her — even  if  he  did 
wear  the  same  button  brother  Jim  sported 
when  in  civilian  dress? — Brother  Jim  being  a 
lieutenant,  senior  grade,  in  the  Xavy  and  S(jn 
of  a  soldier  of  the  great  war  of  '6i. 

"T  heard  your  mother  say  you  must  get  on 
to  Mayence  this  evening  and  you  can't,  if  they 
catch  you — with  that — and  here  they  come!" 
Fact!  lM)ur  little  Prussian  soldiers  were 
scuttling  down  the  steps  from  an  upper  ledge, 
a  sergeant  in  the  lead.  The  group  of  subal- 
ters  had  given  ear  to  the  cries  of  the  sentry  and 


238  A    CAMERA    CAPTLRi:. 

were  now  standing,  open-eyed,  behind  pmcc- 
ncz  and  monocle,  watching  the  result.  Lee 
had  nnslung  his  camera  on  the  run.  and,  with- 
out more  ado.  possessed  himself  of  hers  lying 
on  the  stone  coping,  set  his  in  its  place  and 
tranquilly  continued : 

"Now,  be  so  good  as  to  hurry  to  your  wheel 
and  spin  away  home.      I'li  straighten  this  out 


"But — why  ? — what  ? — " 

"Miss  Beveridge,  unless  you  wish  to  spend 
the  night  in  a  dungeon  and  craze  your  mother, 
go  at  once.  I'll  send  yt)ur  camera  to  the  con- 
sul at  Mayence." 

Then  the  dragon  began  to  whimper,  and  be- 
tween them  and  bewilderment  Miss  Beveridge 
was  started  down  the  steps.  Then  Lee 
squatted  on  the  coping  and  cheerfully  awaited 
developments — and  the  defenders  of  Ehren- 
breitstein. 

They  had  to  zigzag  down  and  so  lost  time 
and  breath  and  temper.  They  ran  up  sputter- 
ing and  seized  upon  Lee  and  the  camera. 

"What's  up?"  said  he  in  imperturbable 
American.  A  German  of^cial,  civic  or  mili- 
tarv,  usuallv  blusters,   shouts  and  gets  red  in 


A    CAMERA    CAPTUKE.  239 

the  face  when  he  makes  either  an  arrest  or  ex- 
l)lanation.  The  Yankee  as  frequently  con- 
founds and  exasperates  him  by  consummate 
sang-froid.  German  instructions  for  guards 
and  sentries  prescribe  just  what  the  sentry 
shall  shout  when  he  sees  a  camera  at  forbid- 
den work.  The  official  language  fails  to  in- 
dicate the  sex  of  the  culprit.  In  fact,  sex  in 
German  tongue  is  a  thing  too  intricate  to  be 
settled  short  of  sixteen  syllables.  The  ser- 
geant wachtmeister,  (overwhelming  Lee  with 
Teutonic  reproach,  could  not  now  hear  the 
sentry's  supplementary  shouts  to  the  effect  that 
he  had  got  the  wrong  culprit.  The  three  at- 
tendant soldiers  could  hear  but  dare  not  offer 
suggestion  to  a  superior — implication  that  a 
higher  officer  may  not  know  everything  being 
inadmissible  in  the  Prussian  military  code. 

So  Miss  Beveridge  wheeled  away  to  the 
bridge  of  boats  and  so  on  back  ti^  the  Bellevue, 
Lee's  camera  at  her  iiip,  Miss  Perkins  at  her 
heels  and  something  new  at  her  heart.  That 
young  man  was  presental^le,  was  ])rom])t,  de- 
cisive, even  commanding,  and  most  women — 
until  they're  married — like  commanding  men. 
Xow  wliat  blunder  had  she  committed?     What 


240  A    CAMERA    CAPTURE. 

danger  was  his  on  her  account?  It  occurred  to 
lier  to  wheel  round  to  the  consul's  and  ask 
Herr  Pfeift'cr,  the  accomplished  English-speak- 
ing" German  clerk. 

"Ach  Himmel !"  said  Pfeiffer.  "Did  not 
the  gnaediges  fraeulein  know  it  of  the  most- 
conspicuous,  high-offensive,  imprisonments- 
bringing  misdemeanor  was,  any  map.  picture, 
writing,  inscription.  fortifications-view  to 
take?" 

"I  didn't,"  snapped  Miss  Beveridge  and  Miss 
Beveridge's  blue  eyes.  "1  only  took  a  shot  at 
a  lot  of  boy  lieutenants  under  the  cannon." 

"Ach  Himmel !"  and  Pfeiffer's  hands  flew  up 
in  air,  then  swooped  on  the  camera. 

"This  one  isn't  mine!  I  exchanged — "  and 
Miss  Beveridge  blushed  vividly. 

"Du  lieber  Himmel !  With  the  distinguished, 
much-wounded,  of-wdiom-to-us-have-written- 
the- Embassy  in  Berlin,  Herr  Major  Lee — " 

"He.'"  A  soldier! — and  wounded!"  cried 
Miss  Beveridge.  "Oh,  mercy,  Herr  Pfeiffer, 
what  zi'ill  they  do  to  him?  Amanda,  go  at 
once  to  mother  and  tell  her  I'm  going  back  to 
Ehrenbreitstein.  Fve  got  an  officer — a  wounded 
officer — r^Ir.  Lee,  arrested.     We  shan't  go  to 


A    CAMERA    CAl'TLKE.  24I 

Maycncc   to-iiight.      I    clun't    care   what    Aunt 
Xerva  says!" 

But  she  didn't  go  back,  fc^r  Pfeiffer  had 
sprung  to  the  telephone  and  was  in  excited 
collo(iuy  in  high-pitched,  high  German  with 
some  \er\-  well-born  sub-deputy  commandant's 
inspector  across  the  Rhine.  She  could  catch 
and  translate  occasional  words.  They  wanted 
to  know  all  about  Lee.  and  Pfeiffer  w-as  load- 
ing them  with  facts  hitherto  utterly  unsus- 
pected. Herr  Major  Lee  of  His  Excellence, 
much-esteemed  United-States-of-North- Amer- 
ica-High-Ambassador a  nephew  was.  Herr 
Lee  of  the  brave.  freiwiller-United  States-of- 
North-American-.Vrniy.  a  high  distinguished 
"stabs  offitseer  in  hauptquartier  den"  of  the- 
Lleaven-knows-what-all.  a  Major  who  severely 
at  Santiago  in  battle  twice  wounded  was. 
Twice  had  he  to  dinner  with  the  high  imperial 
kinglike.  Ciesarlike.  Prussian  and-all-around- 
German  Emperor  at  the  imperial  palace  already 
been.  ptc.  etc.  Pfeiffer.  it  seems,  was  bent  on 
giving  Ehrenbreitstein  to  understand  that  in 
nabbing  Lee  they  were  entertaining  a  martial 
angel  unawares,  and  Pfeiffer  must  have  pre- 
vailed.    That  evening  as  the  Beveridge  i)arty 


24-?  A    CAMi:UA    CAPTURE. 

trundled  away  southward  under  the  vine-ciad 
heights,  the  anxiety  of  Miss  Beveridge  was  ap- 
peased ])y  the  farewell  tidings  im])arted  by 
Mine  Host  of  the  Bellevue.  that  Herr  Major 
Lee  had  sent  for  his  dress-clothes.  Though 
still  nominally  a  captive  he  was  to  dine  whh 
liis  captors. 

"But  where,  child,  is  your  camera  all  this 
time  is  what  /  wish  to  know?"  demanded  Aunt 
Minerva. 

And  Miss  Beveridge  smilingly  asseverated 
that  she  really  could  n(3t  tell. 

It  turned  up  three  days  later  at  Wiesbaden. 
So  did  Lee.  In  fact  they  came  together,  and 
it  seemed  as  though  Lee  were  indisposed  to 
surrender  one  without  the  other.  ]\Iiss  Beve- 
ridge received  him  with  a  blush.  Miss  Minerva 
with  austere  reserve.  '"Europe  is  full  of  ad- 
ventures and  silly  girls,"  said  she.  "Mr.  Lee, 
or  Major  Lee,  is  most  presumptuous.  As  for 
Mabel,  she  is  headstrong  and  you  permit  it." 
Needless  to  say  she  spoke  to  the  invalid. 

Nevertheless,  Lee  hung  on  for  a  week,  and 
then  one  day  who  should  come  but  the  Stan- 
dishes  of  Boston — a  hc^usehold  at  whose  doors 
Miss  Minerva  had  looked  long  and  vainlv  when 


A    CAMERA    CAPTLRE.  243 

last  she  visited  the  Hub.  "It's  the  last  drop." 
said  she.  "'They'll  never  know  us  now  with 
this — ineligible-trapesing  'round  after  Mabel." 
But  she  garbed  herself  in  grandeur  for  dinner 
that  evening,  purposely  detaining  the  family 
until  after  the  Standishes  had  gone  down. 
She  'had  "located"  the  table  reserved  for  the 
Standishes  and  swept  in  past  it  at  the  head  of 
her  train,  prepared  to  impress,  and.  lo.  they 
were  not  there!  Men  and  women  both,  the 
Standish  quintette  had  surrounded  Major  Lee 
at  his  own  table,  and  Miss  Minerva  glared  for 
a  moment,  then  turned  on  her  niece  for  ex- 
planation, for  Mabel  was  bubbling  over  with 
fun. 

••They  were  chums.  1  believe,  at  Harvard, 
and  were  later  in  the  same  brigade — and  be- 
long to  the  same  Commanderv  of  the  Loyal 
Legion."  she  finally  admitted. 

"Thev?  Who?  The  whole  family?"  de- 
manded Aunt  Minerva  severely. 

"Xo,  merely  Mr.  Lee  and  Mr.  Miles  Stan- 
dish." 

And  all  through  dinner  Aunt  Minerva  could 

only  gaze. 

Late  that  evening  Lee  found  Mabel. 


244  A    CAMERA    CAPTURE. 

"Are  you  still  American  enough  to  come 
and  walk  with  me  in  the  garden  a  while?  I've 
got  to  go  to  Heidelberg  with  them  to-morrow. 
It  was  planned  and  promised — before  we  be- 
gan snap  shooting  Prussian  strongholds." 

Even  Aunt  Minerva  had  not  so  much  as  a 
sniff  in  comment  when  Alabel  bent  over  her 
mother's  chair  for  the  desired  permission.  The 
impropriety  of  a  thing  depends  so  very  much 
on  the  social  standing  of  the  parties  to  it. 

"Is  there  no  hope  of  your — coming  to  look 
down  on  the  Neckar  from  the  old  castle?"  he 
queried,  as  he  led  her  along  a  moonlit  aisle, 
away  from  the  band  and  the  busy  tongues  of 
society.  "They  are  students,  not  soldiers, 
there,  you  know.  You  can  snap  shoot  all  you 
like." 

"I  fear — I  think — not,  Mr.  Lee.  Wies- 
baden seems  to  be  just  the  place  for  mother." 
Yet  she  was  thinking  at  that  moment  of  Kate 
Standish,  who  had  so  warmly  greeted  him. 

"You  have  said,  T  fear,'  yet  I  wish  I  feared 
half  as  little,"  said  he,  stopping  at  a  corner, 
but  not  releasing  her  arm. 

"You  weren't  half  afraid  that  day  at  Ehren- 
breitstein,"  she  hurriedly  spoke,  knowing  well 


A    CAMERA    CAPTURE.  245 

that  a  telltale  tremor  had  come  into  his  voice, 
a  telltale  flush  to  her  own  bonny  face.  "Why 
(lid  ycni  make  me  cliange  cameras  with  you — 
when  1  could  so  easily  get  away?" 

•'Because  I  didn't  tiiink  they'd  be  such  dun- 
derheads. I  feared  they  might  overtake  and 
arrest  you,  too.  If  they  did.  then  the  film 
would  show  nothing  but  a  harmless  shot  at  the 
Rhine." 

"Oh! — then  you — didn't  mean  to  take  me?" 
exclaimed  Miss  Beveridge.  glancing  demurely 

up. 
.  "Didn't  mean  to!  Heavens!  What  wouldn't 
I  giNC? — "  And  the  glowing  eyes,  the  tremb- 
Hng  hands  that  seemed  twitching  with  eager- 
ness to  stretch  forth  and  seize  the  slender 
form,  were  unerringly  telling  their  story. 
"Why?     Did  I  take  you?"  he  asked. 

"1  was  the  centre  of  one  picture."  she  an- 
swered, still  demurely.  "But — you — didn't 
mean  it.  you  know."  And  now  in  delight  with 
her  power  e)ver  him,  she  looked  up  again,  smil- 
ing bewitchingly.  teasingly,  temptingly. 

"Then — let  us  change  back  again  at  once," 
he  begged.     "Where  is  that  film?" 


246  A    CAMERA    CAl'TLKE. 

"Where  is  mine — with  all  those  lovely  Prus- 
sian officers? — and  that  splendid  cavalcade?'' 

"Confiscated,  of  course!"  he  answered  with 
instant  frown.  "Heavens !  Here  comes  Stan- 
dish — and  that  Bovvdoin  j^irl.  Mabel,  quick — 
I  want  the  picture — 1  want  the  subject — I  want 
— you.'' 

"But  you — are  going  to  Heidelberg  to  escort 
Miss  Standish,"  she  interposed,  dimpling  delici- 
ously.  longing  to  hear,  yet,  womanlike,  toying 
wnth  her  bHss — even  with  Standish  "and  that 
Bowdoin  girl"  close  at  hand. 

"Kate  Standish  is  engaged  and  has  been— 
a  whole  year.  Answer  me — for  I  love  you. 
May  I  come  back  from  Heidelberg? 

"We-ell.  H  you  want  that  picture — or  the 
—the " 

But  the  rest  was  lost — smothered ;  Standish 
had  gone  another  way. 


THE  FATE  OF  GUADALUPE. 


For  one  week  after  the  Insurgent  attack  on 
the  American  forces  at  Manila,  the  Hne  of  the 
Pasig  river,  eight  miles  in  length,  was  practic- 
ally clear.  Leaving  over  160  dead,  a  number 
drowned  and  three  hundred  wounded  and  pris- 
oners under  the  walls  of  Santa  Ana,  the  main 
body  of  Ricarte's  brigade  of  Pilar's  division 
retreated  up  the  southern  bank,  hotly  pursued 
by  the  right  wing  of  the  First  Brigade  of  An- 
derson's Division.  At  the  English  cemetery 
and  on  the  height  where  stands  the  fine  old 
church  and  convent  of  San  Pedro  Macati,  they 
strove  to  rally,  but  had  apparently  lost  heart 
as  a  result  •>!  the  fearful  drubbing  given  them 
that  morning,  and  the  efforts  of  their  officers, 
brave  and  fanatical  fellows  as  they  are.  were 
fruitless.  A  mile  further  up  stream,  perched 
on   another   height   and   surn)unded   on   three 


248  THE   FATE  OP  GUADALUPE. 

sides  by  thick  woods,  was  still  another  church 
— the  richest  and  finest  on  the  river — that  of 
Guadalupe.  Its  walls  were  massive  and  of 
great  thickness.  Its  tower  commanded  a  fine 
view  in  every  direction.  Its  attendant  con- 
vent or  monastery  was  the  largest  we  had  seen, 
and  on  the  shelves  of  its  great  library  were 
many  books,  some  that  must  have  been  two 
centuries  old,  richly  bound  and  of  unquestioned 
value.  A  populous  native  village  had  nestled 
under  the  steep  bank  that  fell  away  to  the  river- 
side and,  while  bamboo  and  nipa  huts  stretched 
along  up  and  down  stream  for  several  hundred 
yards,  a  dozen  substantial  houses  of  hewn 
stone,  some  of  them  enclosed  in  massive  walls, 
stood  side  by  side  along  the  road.  In  such  a 
position  it  was  possible  for  a  small  force  to 
hold  at  bay  four  times  its  number.  The  gun 
boats  had  not  yet  come  that  far  up  the  Pasig. 
There  was  an  abundant  supply  of  ammunition, 
for  the  Insurgents  left  eighteen  thousand 
rounds  of  rifle  cartridges  in  one  of  those  very 
enclosures,  and  the  pursuing  command  was 
strung  out  in  long  column  all  the  way  from 
the  Paco  suburb  of  Manila,  but  even  with  these 
advantages    the    Insurgents    would    not    turn. 


THE   FATE  OF   GUADALUPE.  249 

Abandoning  the  headquarters  of  Pio  del  Pilar 
in  San  Pedro  village  with  all  its  papers  and 
records,  they  continued  their  flight  to  Pasig 
Ferry  and  beyond.  Guadalupe  church.  Guada- 
lupe convent.  Guadalupe  village  were  found 
utterly  deserted  save  by  scores  of  snarling. 
mangy  dogs,  scarecrow  cats  and  squawking 
chickens.  The  men  of  California.  Idaho  and 
Washington  swarmed  all  o\er  the  premises  in 
the  course  of  the  next  few  days,  while  the  ad- 
vance guard  pushed  on  to  the  head  of  the  river, 
and  found  even  the  great  island  town  of  Pasig 
and  the  outlying  villages  of  Pateros  and  Tag- 
uig  undefended.  "Johnny  Filipino"  had  fled, 
no  one  knew  whither,  and  the  head  men  of  the 
deserted  bailiwick  came  out  with  white  flags 
and  protestations  of  amity  and  proffers  of 
surrender. 

And  so  it  happened  that  for  nearly  a  week, 
with  but  slight  molestation,  the  troops  of  the 
First  Brigade  of  the  First  Division  dwelt  in 
peace  and  cIo\er  among  these  lately  bustling 
and  populous  towns,  feeding  on  the  fat  of  the 
land  and  wondering  what  had  become  of  the 
enemy. 

Far  over  toward  the  l)eautiful  bav  f>f  Manila 


250  THE   FATE  OF   GUADALUPE. 

their  comrades  of  the  Second  Brigade  were 
confronted  by  a  stout  force  in  the  bamboo  south 
of  Pasay,  some  two  miles  from  their  original 
line.  To  the  north  of  Manila  the  Second 
Division  was  halted  before  Caloocan.  whose 
strong  entrenchments  were  bristling  with  little 
brown  warriors.  Only  along  the  southeast  line, 
up  the  Pasig  river,  ilid  there  seem  to  be  no 
obstacle  to  our  advance,  and  that  is  how  it  came 
about  that  the  lines  of  the  First  Brigade 
stretched  like  a  long-drawn  elastic  band, 
thinned  to  the  snapping  point,  from  Paco 
Bridge  to  the  Laguna,  seven  miles  by  road,  and 
more  by  river. 

But  all  this  time  our  corps  commander  was 
an  anxious  man.  From  trustworthy  sources 
he  had  learned  that  within  the  walls  of  old 
Manila,  and  in  the  densely  populated  districts 
surrounding  it,  Tondo,  Binondo  and  Quiapo  on 
the  north,  Ermita  on  the  south  and  Paco  and 
Pandacan  to  the  east,  there  were  thousands  of 
Insurgents  eager  to  rise  and  massacre  the 
Americans  to  a  man.  One-fourth  of  his  effect- 
ive fighting  strength  had  to  be  stationed,  there- 
fore, within,  or  close  to,  the  city  and  far  back 
from  the  fighting  line,  ready  to  pounce  on  the 


Tin:    FATF.  OF  GUADALl'PE.  25  I 

rirst  nidh  ^^i  natives  that  showed  itself.  Xot 
only  was  this  precaution  wise  and  necessary, 
hut  it  might  even  happen  that  the  command- 
ing- general  would  be  compelled  to  call  for  fur- 
ther aid  from  the  regiments  at  the  extreme 
front.  It  may  be  said  of  the  First  California, 
that  on  the  8th  of  February  it  reached  from 
Pasig  to  the  Puente  Colgante — the  suspension 
bridge  connecting  the  old  city  with  the  Ouiapo 
district,  a  stretch  of  six  miles  to  say  the  least. 
This  grew  fn^m  the  fact  that,  by  orders  from 
coqDS  headquarters. one  battalion  was  left  at  the 
great  barracks  close  to  the  bridge,  to  stand 
guard  over  the  natives.  One  company  was  in 
Pandacan  for  a  like  purpose.  Others  were  at 
San  Pedro  Church ;  others  still  at  Guadalui)e, 
while  Captain  Eggert  with  a  single  company 
occupied  after  the  surrender  the  big  church  in 
the  wealthy  town  of  Pasig,  and  never  seemed 
to  give  a  care  to  the  fact  that  an  unbridged  and 
unfordable  river  lay  at  his  back,  between  him 
and  supports. 

But  General  Otis  did.  He  knew  the  enemy 
were  hovering  in  hundreds  about  every  exposed 
point  on  MacArthur's  line,  were  defiant  of 
Ovenshine's  thin  ranks  in  front  of  Pasay,  and 


252  THE   FATE  OF   GUADALUPE. 

that  at  any  moment  they  could  swoop  down  on 
this  far  exposed  brigade  and  disaster  might  fol- 
low^  His  apprenhensions  were  anything  but 
shared  by  tlie  hgiit-hearted  volunteers,  and 
when  on  the  13th  their  outposts  were  attacked 
and  their  communication  threatened,  they  re- 
joiced with  exceeding  joy.  On  the  14th 
Colonel  Smith,  the  gallant  commander  of  the 
Californians,  sent  a  valentine  in  honor  of  the 
day  and  in  shape  of  a  scouting  party  out 
through  the  open  country  to  the  south  of  the 
Pasig,  and  speedily  stirred  up  Filipinos  by  the 
hundred.  The  farther  he  went  the  more  he 
found.  The  gunboat,  Laguna,  came  steaming 
to  Pasig  Ferr}'  intent  on  taking  a  hand  in  the 
fight,  and  the  roar  of  her  guns  was  heard  at 
Manila  and  started  the  story  that  another  battle 
was  on.  Next  day,  the  15th,  things  did  look 
squally,  for  the  little  brown  men  gathered  in 
swarms  and  their  Mauser  bullets  hummed  and 
whizzed  like  angry  w^asps.  The  guns  once 
manned  by  the  Astor  Battery,  but  now  handled 
by  Hawthorne  and  his  regulars,  and  those  of 
the  gunboat  joined  in  the  uproar,  and  for  four 
hours  it  sounded  as  though  great  things  were 
going  on  instead  of  a  long-range  skirmish,  and 


THE    FATE  OF  CUADALUPE.  _'53 

now  General  Otis  interposed.  "That  brigade  is 
too  far  out."  said  he  to  the  division  commander. 
"It  must  be  withdrawn  to  the  lines  of  San 
Pedro  Macati." 

And  so.  much  surprised  but  still  subordinate, 
back  came  the  lads  of  that  far  Western  com- 
mand. Barring  the  brigadier  and  some  of  his 
staff,  all  were  Pacific  Slope  men.  Idaho.  Wash- 
ington and  California  supplying  the  i)ersonnel, 
but  in  disposition  that  brigade  was  far  more 
pugnacious  than  pacific,  and  the  order  to  re- 
tire proved  most  unpalatable.  Equally  sur- 
prised and  wild  with  joy.  up  rose  hundreds  of 
the  dusky  enemy  from  on  every  side,  and  cheer- 
ing like  mad  and  sounding  their  musical  bugles, 
on  they  came  in  pursuit.  Confident  that  this 
would  be  tl\p  upshot,  the  division  commander, 
Major  General  Anderson,  had  already  selected 
a  line  of  defense  that  should  fill  the  reciuire- 
ments  of  the  orders  of  his  superior.  A  third 
of  a  mile  up  stream  and  in  front  of  San  Pedro 
the  hills  broke  away  from  the  riverside  and 
left  an  o|)cn  valley  nearly  200  yards  wide.  In 
this  there  stood  the  sheds  and  huge  stacks  of 
the  product  of  some  big  pottery  concern,  aban- 
doned, like  everything:  else,  to  the  mercv  of  the 


254  'i'lK    KATK  OK  GUADALUPE. 

Yankees.  Ilere.  as  the  extreme  left  of  his  di- 
vision Hne,  the  g^eneral  had  thrown  up  a  stout 
little  eartlnvork.  commanding  the  ri\er  roatl, 
while  the  line  of  intrenchnients  was  planned  to 
riui  gradually  up  the  eastward  slope  of  the  hill- 
side commanding  the  valley  until  it  reached  the 
strong,  walled  enclosure  of  San  Pedro  ceme- 
tery on  a  height  soutlieast  of  the  old  church. 
From  this  point  it  led  away  southward  across  a 
mile-wide  "swale'"  of  open  ricefields,  dipping 
to  a  dry  water  course  midway  and  rising  again 
to  the  next  salient,  a  knoll  crowned  by  a  crop 
of  trees  and  a  stack  or  two  of  hay.  and  referred 
to  in  subsequent  orders  and  reports  at  Hay- 
stack Knoll.  From  thence  the  line  bore  away 
southward  well  out  in.  front  of  the  country 
cross  road  between  San  Pedro  and  Pasay, 
skirted  a  beautiful  grove  covering  the  hamlet 
of  Culiculi,  and  thence,  guarded  by  Ovenshine's 
brigade,  led  straight  away  to  the  bay  shore 
south  of  Pasay. 

Along  this  line,  slowly  and  doggedly  retiring 
before  the  advancing  Filipinos,  the  men  of  the 
First  Brigade  set  to  work  with  pick  and  spade 
to  throw  up  the  needful  shelter  against  the 
ever  wliizzing  Mausers,  every  little  while  when 


THE    FATE  OF  GUADAI.L'PE.  J53 

the  enemy  pressed  too  close,  dropping  those 
bncolical  implements  for  the  more  familiar 
Springffield.  ami  occasionally  stoppingr  work  t<i 
cheer  some  particularly  well-aimed  shot  from 
Hawthorne's  bellowing  giins.  Splendid  little 
guns  were  they, — Hotchkiss  never  made  a  bet- 
ter.— but  the  ammunitii  .n  was  a  thing  to  make 
artillerists  weep  or  blaspheme  according  to 
temperament,  and  the  Filipino  laugh.  Half 
the  shells  failed  to  explode,  but,  when  they  did. 
great  was  the  execution  thereof. 

Through  the  hot  morning  of  the  i6th  this 
ionsr-ransre  work  continued  until  eleven  o'clock, 
when  "Johnny  Filipino"  fancied  himself 
strong  enough  to  push  ahead  and  drive  the  blue 
line  back  to  Manila.  All  on  a  sudden  the 
merrv  music  of  his  bugles  came  floating  in  on 
the  iireeze, — some  stirring,  spirited  call  that 
was  taken  up  and  carried  along  from  height  to 
height  across  the  intervening  mile  of  thicket 
and  ricefield. — and  then,  lirisk  and  buoyant,  out 
came  the  skirmish  lines,  dancing  into  view 
along  the  op])osite  slopes,  firing  rapidly  as  they 
deployed.  And  then  the  hiss  of  Mauser  and 
hum  of  Remington  became  incessant,  and  Cali- 
fornia on  the  right  and  Washington  on  the  left 


256  THE  FATE  OF   GIADALUPE. 

and  Idaho  scattered  along  pretty  much  every- 
where, sprang  to  their  rifles  with  unholy  joy, 
and.  just  as  soon  as  "Johnny  came  marching 
home  again"  within  reasonable  range,  turned 
loose  on  their  welcome  visitors.  Presently  the 
fields  began  to  show  stationary  dots  here  and 
there — hats  of  Filipino  straw  and  uniforms  of 
Filipino  fabric  seemed  to  be  stretching  out  to 
bleach  in  the  blazing  sun,  and  though  officers 
on  horseback  galloped  up  and  down  behind 
their  men,  and  brandished  swords  and  waved 
their  hats  and  shouted  imprecations  in  Tagal 
and  Spanish,  the  lines  began  to  falter.  Here 
and  there  whole  sections  would  flop  face  down- 
ward behind  the  thick  earthern  walls  of  the  lit- 
tle patches  of  the  paddy  fields  and  couldn't  be 
induced  to  come  further.  Then  a  new  element 
of  discomfort  appeared  on  their  right  flank  and 
sent  it  scurrying  back  to  shelter,  for  all  on  a 
sudden  gray  old  Guadalupe  began  to  spit  fire 
and  smoke  and  Springfield  bullets,  and,  though 
it  stood  long  half  a  mile  away  from  the  right 
flank  of  the  attacking  force,  the  men  behind  the 
guns  were  fellows  that  had  done  squirrel  hunt- 
ing from  early  boyhood  and  knew  how  to  pull 
trigger   with   a  placid   and   unheaving  breast. 


THE   FATE  OF   GUADALUPE.  J57 

Pushing  his  fighting  Hnes  thruugh  tlic  thick 
bamhoo,  along  the  bluffs  that  overhang  the 
river,  del  Pilar  found  slow  and  burdensome 
work,  and  though  his  scouts  across  the  Pasig 
could  plainly  see  and  promptly  tell  him  that  the 
main  line  was  intrenching  up  the  hijlside  back 
of  the  old  pottery,  they  could  not  see  that  Guad- 
alupe church  was  still  held — an  tnitlying  fort 
in  front  of  the  left  of  our  line. 

But  it  was,  and  by  Anderson's  order,  for  it 
had  occurred  to  that  skilled  veteran  that,  should 
Pibr  attack  across  the  open  ground  to  the 
south  before  our  thinned  ranks  could  spade  up 
shelter  to  protect  themselves,  a  flank  fire  might 
be  poured  into  at  least  the  right  of  his  charg- 
ing line,  and  he  well  knew  the  Filipinos  could 
not  stand  it,  and  so,  under  Lieutenant  Colonel 
Duboce,  First  California,  a  little  force  had  been 
halted  at  Guadalupe,  half  a  mile  out  in  the 
dense  woods  beyond  our  left,  and  there  three 
companies  lined  the  church  and  convent  walls 
and  windows.  The  friars  of  old  had  vanished, 
Init  the  rafters  rang  with  the  chant  of  San 
Franciscans,  their  hymn  oi  praise — "There'll 
be  a  Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Church  To-night." 

But  a  hotter  time,  a  sadder  time  was  to  come 


■J^H  THK    FATK  OF   GUADALUPE. 

for  the  old  church  two  nights  after.  It  was 
one  of  the  sorrows  of  the  campaign. 

Faihng  in  the  general  attack  along  the  whole 
line  on  the  i6th,  the  Insurgents  fell  back  to 
the  ridges  to  the  south  and  east,  leaving  sharp- 
shooters to  keep  up  an  exasperating  fire  on  our 
hard-workinj^  fellows.  By  nightfall  the 
trendies  were  fairly  strong.  They  had  to  be, 
for  the  wires  were  hot  with  stirring  reports 
and  injunctions  from  headquarters  in  Manila. 
*'Enemy  in  strong  force  reported  massing  op- 
posite your  left.  Formidable  attack  may  be 
expected  any  moment.  Use  every  endeavor  to 
strengthen  your  line.  If  necessary  strip  your 
right  to  strengthen  your  left.  Not  another 
man  or  gun  can  be  sent  to  your  support.  Posi- 
tion must  be  held  at  all  hazards."  etc.,  etc. 

A  ride  out  to  Guadalupe  developed  the  fact 
that  the  Filipino  sharj^shooters  were  crawling 
in  to  the  thickets  on  three  sides  of  that  prom- 
inent and  imposing  landmark.  The  view  from 
the  lofty  belfry  was  even  more  interesting  than 
before.  Imt  attended  with  undesired  aeolian 
effect.  The  moment  a  campaign  hat  was  poked 
up  through  the  scuttle  th.ose  veneral)le  bells  be- 
gan to  chime.     Mauser  and  Remington  mis- 


THE    FATK   Ul-    CI' AUALL  TK.  259 

siles  rang  the  changes  in  spirited  style,  and  the 
l)anorania  lost  its  charms.     Out  in  the  trenches 
to  the  east  dI  the  convent.  McRoberts  with  a 
brace  oi  Idaho  companies  was  blazing  into  the 
])amboo   whenever  the   Mausers  cracked,   and 
within  the  walls  themselves  and  in  the  thickets 
to  the  south  the  lieutenant  colonel  of  the  Cali- 
fornians    had    stationed    "M."    "L"    and    '"G" 
companies  of  his  own  regiment.     At  midnight, 
after  a  continuous    strain    of    three    days  and 
nights  under  fire,  he  reported  his  men  '"dead 
tired",  yet  alert  and  looking  for  the  promised 
attack.      All  night   long  the  little  l.^rown  men 
kept  popping  away  at  the  lights  in  San  Petlro 
Macati  where  brigade  headciuarters  had  been 
established,  and  at  the  windows  of  the  church 
on  Guadalupe  Height,  but.  except  wdien  they 
sent  in  a  skirmish  line  to  try  the  mettle  of  the 
men  toward  Haystack  Knoll  at  tiiree  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  no  aggressive  move  was  made. 
Here,  lying  l1at  in  the  hollows  and  depressions 
within   three  hundred   yards  of  our   line  and 
firing  much  too   high,   they  contented   them- 
selves with  a  few  volleys  of  mingled  chaff  and 
bullets,  one  dusky  humorist  gleefully  imitating 
the  commands  of  a  stentorian  captain  anil  the 


260  THE  FATE  OF  GUADALUPE. 

entire  force  from  time  to  time  setting  up  a 
shrill  squeal  of  "Gangway — Gangway!" — the 
expression  our  fellows  had  learned  aboard  ship 
as  the  nautical  equivalent  for  "clear  the  track"  ; 
but.  as  the  track  was  not  cleared,  the  mud 
colored  scamps  finally  slid  back  to  safety  before 
the  sudden  coming  of  the  day. 

That  day,  too,  the  17th,  was  spent  in  the 
midst  of  alarms,  generally  from  our  rear,  for 
everything     coming     from      the      front     was 
promptly  disposed  of.     This  night  again  was 
as  quiet — just  about — as  the  Fourth  of  July  at 
home,  and  from    some    points    along  our  line 
came   demands    for   more   ammunition.      The 
woods  about  Guadalupe  were  now  thickly  pop- 
ulated with   Insurgent  sharpshooters  and  the 
crack  of  the  Mauser  was  heard  in  the  land  far 
more  frequently  than  was  desirable,  yet  no  man 
could  really  "locate"  the  shooters,  for  smoke 
less  powder  and  thick  bamboo  gave  no  tell-tale 
sign  of  the  lurking  foe.     Duboce  began  to  get 
tired  of  the  incessant  spat  of  the  shot  upon  tlie 
convent  roofs  and  walls.     The  brigade  wanted 
to  sail  in  and  "wipe  the  woods  dry",  as  a  big 
Californian  expressed  it,  but  orders  forbade. 
Convinced  that  the  enemy  was  in  heavy  force 


TlIK    KATK  OF   GUADALUPE.  261 

in  our  iront  ihe  Liovernor  General  said  "defend 
to  the  last."  but  let  there  be  no  more  attack. 
He  was  waiting-  for  the  promised  C(3ming  of 
those  six  regiments  of  regulars  shipped  from 
'Frisco  and  New  York. 

And  so.  with  the  coming  of  the  afternqon  of 
the  1 8th.  the  situation  in  front  of  San  Pedro 
was  a  teaser.  Anderson,  ever  alive  to  the  in- 
terests of  his  men  and  the  care  of  his  line,  came 
riding  out  about  4  o'clock  to  see  what  was  best 
to  be  done  in  view  of  the  latest  reports  from 
corps  headquarters.  This  time  the  enemy  was 
massing  in  force  opposite  Haystack  Knoll  and, 
bevond  all  question,  said  Headquarters,  a  fierce 
attack  might  be  looked  for  immediately  after 
dark.  Now  that  part  of  the  line  was  really  its 
weakest  point,  and  it  Pilar  had  been  the  dar- 
ing leader  he  was  reputed  to  be.  he  could  have 
crashed  through  with  a  charging  column  some 
dark  night  and  gone  careering  on  toward 
Manila.  \'ery  possibly,  however,  he  reasoned 
that  while  the  Yankee  line  was  stretched  to  the 
utmost  to  cover  that  space  from  river  to  1>ay. 
it  would  let  go  at  the  front  at  the  moment  of 
puncture  and  then  come  swarming  about  his 
ears.      Discretion    was.    therefore,    the   better 


262  THE    FATE  OF  GUADALUPE. 

part  of  valor.  But  here  on  the  i8th  his  dem- 
onstrations were  such  that  the  Bureau  of  Alili- 
tary  Intelligence  fairly  snapped  with  excite- 
ment. "Strengthen  your  right  hy  every  pos- 
sible means,  even  if  you  ha\-e  to  strip  the  left," 
was  the  word,  and  the  question  was.  hcnv  tn  do 
it. 

As  matters  stood  there  was  not  a  man  in  re- 
serve. Exceju  the  Californians  held  to  service 
in  Manila,  the  small  guards  on  watch  at  Paco, 
Pandacan  and  Santa  Ana.  and  a  single  company 
furnishing  guards  and  pickets  for  the  roads 
about  San  Pedro,  every  able-bodied  mother's 
son  of  the  First  Brigade  was  at  the  extreme 
front.  There  was  only  one  spot  from  which 
the  brigadier  could  draw,  and  he  looked  at  his 
division  commander,  half  hating  to  suggest  it, 
for  well  he  knew  to  what  it  must  lead, — Guada- 
lupe! That  grand  old  church  was  a  white 
elephant  on  our  hands.  It  was  a  menace  for, 
were  the  Insurgents  to  reoccupy  it,  their  fire 
from  its  windows  would  speedily  make  San 
Pedro  untenable.  Spaniard  and  Tagal,  each 
in  his  turn  had  used  it  as  arsenal  and  fortress. 
With  one  more  regiment  on  the  eastward  line  it 
might  still  be  saved,  but  where  was  that  regi- 


Tin:    FATI-:  OF   GUADALUPE.  J63 

nicni  to  cuine  m.ni?  Had  not  the  fiat  gone 
forth  that  not  another  man  would  be  sent  to 
Anderson's  division  ?  Was  not  every  company 
in  Ovenshine's  brigade  to  our  right  batthng  day 
and  niglit  with  unseen  foemen  in  the  jungle? 
Only  by  the  withdrawal  of  Duboce's  battalion 
from  those  venerable  walls  could  we  bolster  the 
right,  and  if  Guadalupe  hail  to  be  dropped,  it 
must  be  made  so  hot  that  no  enemy  could  pick 
it  up.  Anderson  saw  the  problem  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye.  and  decided  like  a  flash.  "Burn 
it."  said  he.  '"and  recall  Duboce  to  the  rear  of 
the  line." 

And  so  the  orders  went  toward  half  past  four 
to  the  lieutenant  colonel  commanding.  "Send 
back  at  once  to  San  Pedro  all  spare  ammunition 
and  heavy  baggage.  Relieve  ]McRoberts  and 
his  two  Idaho  companies  and  direct  him  to  re- 
port to  brigade  headcjuarters.  Make  all  prep- 
arations to  abandon  Guadalupe  church,  to  de- 
stroy it  by  fire  and  to  retire  with  your  command 
to  San  Pedro." 

At  6:30  McRoberts  and  his  little  command 
came  trudging  back  by  the  river  road,  none  too 
happy  at  thought  of  quitting  the  extreme  front, 
but  speedily  cheering  up  when  informed  they 


264  Till.    l-.\il-.   OF   l.LAUALUrE. 

were  to  join  the  main  body  of  their  gallant  regi- 
ment over  beyond  Haystack  Knoll,  v/here,  if 
the  Bureau  of  Military  Information  was  to  be 
believed,  Pilar  proposed  to  hew  a  way  town- 
ward  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  In  the 
rapidly  gathering  dusk  they  reslung  their 
blanket  rolls,  after  brief  rest  in  the  little  plaza 
in  front  of  Pilar's  old  house,  now  brigade 
headquarters,  and  swung  away  up  the  stony 
track  to  the  churchyard  on  the  hill,  and  then, 
under  the  peeping  stars,  out  over  the  open 
country  in  rear  of  the  trenches.  Within  the 
headquarters  building  the  little  telegraph  in- 
strument kept  up  a  constant  clicking,  messages 
coming  and  going  between  division  and  brigade 
commanders  and  between  the  latter  and  the  iso- 
lated force  at  Guadalupe.  The  night  came 
down  breathless  and  still.  The  silence  at  the 
front  was  really  ominous,  for  all  the  previous 
nights  from  dusk  until  3  a.m.  the  Insurgent 
fire  had  been  almost  incessant,  and  between  3 
and  sunrise  hardly  ten  minutes  passed  that 
were  not  punctuated  with  the  crack  of  their 
rifles.  Not  a  shot  had  been  fired  on  McRobert's 
men  as  they  drew  away,  and  one  could  well 
nigh  believe  that  Pilar  really  was  stripping  his 


THE   FATE  OF  GUADALUPE.  .265 

right  to  mass  for  an  attack  on  ours.  Yet.  wary 
scouts,  creeping  far  out  to  the  front  from  Hay- 
stack Knoll,  could  see  nor  hear  nothing  there 
of  any  gathering  in  force  and  the  lookouts  that 
had  spent  the  afternoon  hours  in  the  treetops 
on  the  kw.A],  sweeping  the  country  to  the  south- 
east with  their  glasses,  declared  that  nc^  Insur- 
gents in  any  number  had  passed  from  in  front 
of  Guadalupe  to  reinforce  the  Insurgent  left. 
Then  the  Guadalupe  garrison  were  certain  that, 
though  no  IcMiger  firing,  the  little  brown  men 
were  still  in  the  woods  and  ravines  about  them, 
and  daring  fellows  climliing  to  the  belfry  and 
peering  about  them  saw  moving  lights  and 
many  little  campfires  up  the  south  bank  of  the 
Pasig.  The  foe  was  still  there  then,  and  it  was 
decided  not  to  order  Dulioce  to  apply  the  torch 
and  ([uit  until  later  in  the  night  or  until  the  pre- 
dicted attack  materialized. 

All  on  a  sudden,  soon  after  seven  o'clock,  the 
sharp  crackle  of  musketry  began  up  stream,  and 
Mauser  bullets  came  zipping  into  San  Pedm. 
Duboce  hail  most  of  his  Califomians  by  this 
time  in  their  trench  and  wall  fortifications  east 
of  the  church,  and  as  the  enemy  appeared  to 
be  in  consideral^le  numbers  and  not  quarter  of 


266  THE   FATE   OF   GUADALUPE. 

a  mile  away,  the  rule  witli  regard  to  firing  only 
when  they  could  l)e  plainly  seen  was  relaxed, 
and  close  to  the  river  a  lively  C(jmbat  went  on 
for  as  nmch  as  an  hour  with  little  or  no  damage 
to  our  side,  and  still  there  came  no  demonstra- 
tion where  predicted,  over  at  the  right.  Ten, 
eleven,  twelve  o'clock  passed  by  and  all  night 
long  those  little  owls  of  Filipinos  seemed  bent 
on  keeping  up  their  fusillade.  It  fell  away 
from  volleys  to  file  firing  within  the  second 
hour  and  to  scattering  shots  by  midnight,  but 
still  it  was  there  and  not  at  the  right.  Not  un- 
til three  o'clock  did  it  die  away  entirely,  and 
now  with  the  dawn  less  than  three  hours  off,  it 
was  time  to  be  thinking  of  the  proposed  con- 
flagration. 

The  signal  service  operator  with  his  instru- 
ment was  still  in  Guadalupe  tower,  and  at  3  130 
Duboce  reported  that  he  had  his  stacks  of  com- 
bustibles in  various  places  about  the  interior  of 
the  church  and  convent,  and  he  was  eager  to 
get  through  with  it  and  away,  for  his  men  were 
hungry  and  tired.  Some  nitro  glycerine  had 
been  sent  for  the  use  of  the  engineers  in  blow^- 
ing  up  the  barges  and  cascoes  sunk  to  block 
the  way  in  the  Pasig,  and  had  been  stored  in  a 


THE    FATE  OF  lilADALUPE.  267 

stone-wallcd  room  on  an  upper  floor  of  the 
church.  The  men  had  an  idea  that  this  would 
exi)lode  and  convert  old  Guadalupe  into  a  vol- 
cano, and  they  naturally  preferred  to  watch  the 
spectacle  from  a  distance.  A  single  word  over 
the  wire.  "Quit."  was  to  be  Dulw)ce"s  signal  to 
touch  off  his  inflammables  and  call  off  his  men. 
But  still  there  came  no  sound  from  the  right 
save  that  Major  Figgins.  the-  brave  veteran 
c(~»mmanding  the  First  Idaho,  stoutly  main- 
tained that  Pilar  couldn't  raise  men  enough  in 
all  Cavite  to  burst  through  his  line  before  we 
could  reinforce  him. 

There  was  still  another  hour  when  4  o'clock 
chimed  on  the  big  Dutch  clock  that  stood  within 
the  hallway.  The  staff  had  gathered  on  the 
azotca  overlooking  the  swirling  Pasig  and  list- 
ened eagerly  for  the  promised  crash  of  mus- 
sketry  that  should  announce  Pilar's  attack. 
V'wt  o'clock  came  and  still  no  sound  save  the 
plash  of  the  waters  on  the  pebbly  shore,  the 
tramp  of  the  sentry  on  the  stone  flagging,  the 
mournful  howl  of  .some  homeless  dog.  and  the 
clicking  of  the  telegraph  instrument  in  the 
dimly  lighted  office.  The  gray  tower  of  Guad- 
alupe, perched  on  its  height  a  thousand  yards  up 


268  THE   FATE  OF  GUADALUPE. 

Stream,  l)egan  to  loom  against  the  faint  rose 
tint  in  the  eastward  sky,  and  then  somebody 
said  "Hark!" 

Far  out  over  the  roHing  country  to  the  south, 
far  over  beyond  our  saHent  of  Cemetery  Height 
a  sputter  and  crackle  of  rifle  shots  broke  upon 
the  silence  of  the  morning  air.  Then  came  the 
crash  of  a  volley,  the  ciuick,  spirited  blare  of  a 
bugle  at  San  Pedro  church,  answering  some 
distant  signal  from  the  right  front.  Another 
volley  and  a  far-away  rattle  as  of  fire  crackers. 
An  aide-de-camp  sprang  into  saddle  and  went 
clattering  up  the  road  to  the  knoll.  The  oper- 
ator got  a  nod  from  the  General  and  flashed  the 
single  word  to  his  comrade  at  Guadalupe. 
There  was  a  rapid  buckling  on  of  sword  or  pis- 
tol belts  in  the  group  of  officers  at  headquarters, 
a  pulling  on  of  gauntlets  and  testing  of  saddle 
girths,  a  few  brief  w^ords  of  instruction  and 
then — silence.  Almost  as  suddenly  as  it  began 
the  volleying  out  to  the  south  had  died  away. 
The  scattering  shots  became  fewer  and  fainter, 
then  ceased  entirely.  Pilar's  grand  attack  was 
again  postponed,  and  once  more  the  staff 
scrambled  out  to  the  azotea  and  gazed  toward 
Guadalupe. 


THE   I-WTL:  of  GUADALUPE.  269 

There  against  that  flawless  morning  sky.  now 
a  glory  of  crimson  and  goUl.  a  bK-ick  cloud  was 
slowly  rising  o\cr  th.e  great  gray  tower. 
Higher  and  higher  it  soared  toward  the  heavens 
where  some  of  the  belated  stars  still  twinkled 
in  the  vault  of  blue,  and  men  gathered  on  the 
walls  of  San  Pedro  and  Imvered  along  the  curv- 
ing shore  of  the  Pasig  and  watched  with  all 
their  eyes.  Then  the  windows  on  the  west- 
ward side  became  hidden  in  murky  smoke  that 
billowed  out  from  their  deep  embrasures,  and 
all  the  big  edifice  seemed  gradually  to  wrap 
itself  in  a  veil  of  gloom  that  well  nigh  hid  it 
from  our  sight.  Then,  all  on  a  sudden,  red 
and  angry  a  tongue  of  flame  leaped  from  the 
belfry,  and  almost  at  the  instant  others  burst 
from  the  windows  of  the  upper  floor.  The 
dense,  black  balloon-like  mass  that  hovered  over 
the  doomed  sanctuary  took  on  a  lurid  glare, 
and  far  and  near  the  Filipinos  seemed  to  wake 
at  the  sight,  and  over  on  the  opposite  shore  the 
Pariah  dogs  set  up  a  howl  as  of  woe  and  dis- 
may. Then  the  lofty  tov»er  began  to  don  a 
mantle  of  flame,  and  the  corrugated  iron  roof, 
that  had  long  withstood  earthfjuake  and 
typhoon,  to  crackle  and  curl,  and  all  the  time 
like  the  popping  of  innumerable  cartridges,  the 


270  THE   FATE  OF  GUADALUPF. 

dry  bamiKx)  that  had  l)een  heaped  in  the  various 
halls  and  rot)ms  kept  up  an  incessant  fusillade, 
audible  away  back  at  the  trenches.  The  roar 
of  the  flames  grew  louder  every  moment  and 
presently  crash  after  crash  in  the  blazing  inte- 
rior told  that  stair  and  gallery  and  wooden 
beam  were  coming  down,  and  that  soon  the 
great  vooi  must  give  way  and  let  out  the  pent 
up  volume  of  fire.  Then  came  a  dull,  booming 
sound  and  the  west  end  of  the  roof  seemed  to 
hea\'e  and  expand  and  then  to  sink  with  stun- 
ning crash  into  the  blazing  abyss  below.  And 
now,  indeed,  a  volcano  burst  against  the  lawn 
and  a  huge  column  of  smoke  and  sparks  and 
flaming  fragments  sailed  upward  into  space, 
and  then,  down  into  the  fiery  depths,  their 
beams  and  supports  eaten  from  under  them,  the 
consecrated  l^ells  of  Guadalupe  went  thunder- 
ing upon  the  stone  pavement  a  hundred  feet 
below,  the  harsh  clangor  resounding  over  the 
shouts  of  the  soldiery  lined  up  to  w^elcome  the 
Californians  as  they  came  marching  in,  many 
of  them  grimy  with  smoke.  Broad  daylight 
and  the  morning  sunshine  followed  at  their 
heels,  showing  only  a  smoking,  seared  and 
blistered  ruin,  its  tower  toppled  to  earth  and 
only  the  massive  walls  left  standing  to  tell  of 
Guadalupe's  grandeur  in  the  by-gone  days. 


THE  MANILA  WIRE. 


It  was  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  February 
and  all  Manila  was  girdled  with  smoke  and 
flame.  From  the  shores  of  the  beautiful  bay 
opposite  the  Bocano  de  Vitas  at  the  north, 
away  around  in  wide  sweep  across  the  Pasig 
and  tiience  to  old  Fort  San  Antonio  Abad  at 
the  southern  suburb,  long  lines  of  .American 
soldiery  were  pitted  against  the  opposing  forces 
of  the  Insurgent  army,  led  by  Aguinaldo's  best 
and  bravest  generals.  For  three  months  the 
Filipinos  had  maintained  a  strict  blockade,  for- 
bidding the  soldiers  of  Uncle  Sam  to  cross  the 
outer  limits  of  the  city — a  jagged  semi-circle 
along  which  the  Spaniards  in  the  days  of  their 
domination  had  built  a  series  of  wooden  block 
houses.  Even  when  the  Insurgents  began 
thntwing  up  earthworks  and  planting  guns 
again.st    the    American    position,    their    h>stile 


2/2  THE   MANILA    WIRE. 

demonstrations  were  ignored,  and  to  the  very 
last  our  government  persisted  in  treating  the 
"little  brown  men"  as  friends  and  allies.  As 
early  as  the  middle  of  December  it  was  only 
too  evident  that  armed  attack  was  imminent. 
All  the  same,  orders  required  that  Aguinaldo's 
officers  be  received  with  every  courtesy  and  the 
rank  and  file  with  kindness.  They  came  and 
went  within  our  lines  at  their  own  free  will. 
Their  soldiery,  their  women  and  children  in 
swarms  would  visit  the  American  outposts,  and 
claim  a  share  of  the  ample  rations  and  profess 
undying  regard  for  their  "Amigos  Ameri- 
canos." Yet  in  hundreds  of  native  homes 
rifles  and  ammunition  were  stored  to  be  used 
against  our  wounded,  our  surgeons  and  nurses 
when  the  day  of  battle  came,  and  some  of  the 
convents  and  many  of  the  churches  proved  to 
be  veritable  arsenals.  And  it  is  about  one  of 
these, — the  big  stone  church  at  East  Paco,  the 
eastermost  suburb  of  Manila,  that  there  hangs 
a  story  not  soon  to  be  forgotten  by  the  men  of 
Anderson's  Division  of  the  Eighth  Corps,  a 
story  of  heroism  and  devotion  to  duty  that  may 
well  be  remembered  by  the  youth  of  America. 
Crossing  the  Estero  de  Paco  by  a  massive 


THE   MANILA    WIRE. 


-/J 


bridge  of  stone,  tiie  Calle  Real — the  main 
street — passed  within  a  few  rods  of  the  win- 
dows and  towers  of  the  church.  It  was  the 
broad  thoroughfare  over  which  went  most  of 
tlie  travel  and  much  of  the  traffic  between 
Manila  and  the  thronged  towns  and  villages  up 
the  Pasig  river  and  around  the  picturesque 
Laguna  de  Bay.  It  was  lined  on  both  sides 
with  houses  whose  lower  story,  at  least,  was  of 
stone,  solidly  built  to  resist  the  earthquakes, 
sometimes  so  destructive  in  this  volcanic  land, 
and  on  its  northern  side  were  strung  the  tele- 
graph wires,  two  in  number,  of  the  signal  corps 
of  the  army,  connecting  the  outermost  block 
house.  Number  Eleven,  with  the  field  head- 
quarters of  the  general  in  command  of  the  First 
Brigade  of  the  First  Division  of  the  American 
army  of  occupation,  and  with  those  of  his  su- 
perior officers.  Major  General  Anderson  and 
Major  General  Otis,  within  the  walled  city  of 
Manila. 

With  the  early  dawn  of  that  lovely  Sunday 
there  came  galloping  along  the  hard-beaten 
road  a  wiry  little  Filipino  pony,  ridden  by  a 
slender  young  soldier  in  brown  khaki  uniform. 
From  underneath  the  curline  brim  of  his  drab 


2/4  Till-:    .MANILA    WIRE. 

felt  campaign  hat  a  pair  t)f  clear,  dark  brown 
eyes  peered  eagerly,  searchingly  along  that  line 
of  wire  and  up  and  down  every  pole.  Some- 
times bending  low  in  saddle,  sometimes  sitting 
erect,  he  was  searching  for  any  defect  or  dam- 
age, for  ever  since  four  o'clock  Mauser  and 
Remington  bullets  had  come  whizzing  in  from 
the  front,  sometimes  striking  the  walls  and 
spattering  flinty  chips  on  every  side,  sometimes 
glancing  on  the  stony  roadway  with  vicious 
spat,  sometimes  shattering  the  glass  in  the 
lamp-posts,  or  crashing  through  the  delicate 
seashells  that,  framed  in  little  squares,  formed 
the  windows  of  the  Filipino  houses.  From  the 
fact  that  the  sentries  at  the  bridge  presented 
arms  as  the  young  rider  spurred  along,  and 
that  there  was  a  single  silver  bar  on  e:ich  dark 
blue  shoulder  strap,  it  was  evident  that,  despite 
his  youth,  the  young  rider  was  an  officer — a 
first  lieutenant — and  the  device  on  the  collar 
told  further  that  he  was  of  the  signal  corps  of 
the  volunteer  army.  He  was  a  handsome  fel- 
low, with  clear-cut.  regular  features,  dark, 
wavy,  brown  hair  and  a  face  bronzed  liy  tropic 
suns  but  radiant  with  the  health  and  spirit  of 
youth.      His  form   was  supple  and   well   knit. 


THL:    MANILA    WIRK.  2/5 

his  shoulders  hmad.  liis  clicst  deep,  his  arms 
and  legs  U>iig-  aiul  sinewy.  He  looked  emi- 
nently '"tit",  as  our  English  cousins  would  say, 
and  so  thought  more  than  one  otTicer  in  the  lit- 
tle group  at  brigade  headquarters  as  he  came 
loping  into  view,  and  many  a  man  in  the  bat- 
talion of  Californians  drawn  up  under  shelter 
of  the  stone  walls  of  the  cross  street.  Only  a 
few  minutes  before  two  men  of  the  First  Idaho 
had  been  shot  just  in  front  of  brigade  head- 
quarters where  the  y^-'ung  signal  officer  sprang 
from  saddle  to  make  his  report  to  the  adjutant 
general. 

"Lines  all  safe  as  yet.  sir,"  he  said,  his  hand 
going  up  in  salute,  "but  the  fire  is  pretty  sharp 
along  the  road  and  the  sentries  say  there's 
occasional  shooting  around  them.  They  can't 
tell  where  the  bullets  come  from  now  that  it  is 
light,  and  the  enemy  uses  smokeless  powder. 
The  Wyoming  regiment  is  in  reserve,  by  Gen- 
eral Anderson's  order.  l)ehind  those  buildings 
across  the  bridge,  and  they  say.  too,  that  they 
hear  shots  every  little  while." 

An  ambulance  driving  rapidly  came  rattling 
down  the  street  from  the  firing  line  at  the  east- 
ern skirt  of  the  village.     .\  pale  faced  soldier, 


2/6  THE   MANILA    WIRE. 

his  arm  freshly  bandaged,  sat  beside  the  driver, 
and  both  soldier  and  driver  trembled  with 
wrath  and  excitement  as  they  drew  up  in  front 
of  the  building. 

"We  were  fired  at  from  three  of  those  nipa 
huts  up  the  road,  right  there  this  side  of  the 
bend,"  said  the  driver,  angrily,  and  then  lower- 
ing his  voice:  "I've  got  two  desperately 
wounded  men  inside,  too."  Then  a  hospital 
corps  soldier,  springing  from  the  step,  corrob- 
orated the  statement. 

"I  could  see  the  'niggers'  in  one  shack  aim- 
ing at  me,"  he  said,  "and  the  bullets  flew  close 
as — that,"  and  he  whisked  his  hand  back  over 
the  shoulder,  almost  shaving  his  ear. 

"The  General's  over  at  Battery  Knoll  with 
the  guns,"  was  the  answer  of  the  chief  of  staff. 
"There  they  go  now!"  he  added,  as  with  a 
roar  and  shriek  the  long  shell  leaped  from  the 
brown  muzzle  and  went  tearing  through  space 
toward  the  Krupps  in  the  river  redoubt.  Then 
followed  a  distant  crash — It  had  burst  just 
above  the  hostile  parapet.  "We  can't  get  or- 
ders to  advance  yet,  and  when  we  do  he  wants 
you  to  follow  us  right  up  with  your  wire. 
Communication  must  be  kept  by  telegraph.   It's 


THE   MANILA    WIRE.  2~'J 

as  much  as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  attempt  to 
ritle  this  street,  and  I  hate  to  send  an  orderly 
with  a  message." 

"Can  you  leave  men  enough  to  guard  the 
line?"  asked  the  young  signal  man,  anxiously. 
"They'll  be  cutting  it  in  a  dozen  places  other- 
wise." 

"We  haven't  got  'em."  was  the  impatient 
answer.  "Sooner  or  later  the  order  must  come 
to  pitch  in.  Then  every  man  will  be  needed  at 
the  front.  They  are  calling  for  reinforcements 
even  now  at  Block  House  ii.  The  General 
sent  in  two  California  companies  and  then  rode 
over  to  Dyer's  Battery.  You  might  go  to  him 
there,  if  you  like.  He'll  want  to  know  this, 
anyhow." 

But,  even  as  he  spoke,  up  the  street  at  sharp 
trot,  followed  by  a  single  orderly,  came  the 
brigade  commander.  The  crash  of  musketry 
at  the  front  and  the  cheers  of  the  Californians 
as  they  drove  in  through  the  ricefields  to  the 
support  of  their  comrades  of  the  First  Wash- 
ington had  deadened  the  sound  of  the  pony's 
hoofs.  Silently,  but  with  intense  interest,  the 
General  listened  to  the  driver's  story  of  the  fire 
from  the  nipa  huts  on  the  skirts  of  the  town. 


278  Tin;    MAMLA    WIRE. 

and  even  before  it  was  more  than  half  told,  ex- 
cited exclamations  among  the  soldiers  called 
his  attention  away.  Lashing  his  pony  to  top 
speed  and  bending  down  on  his  neck,  an  orderly 
came  tearing  in  from  the  front,  running  the 
gauntlet  between  two  rows  of  native  houses 
from  which  the  sharp,  vicious  crack  of  the 
Mauser,  and  the  heavier  report  of  the  Reming- 
ton could  be  plainly  heard. 

"Send  a  platoon  to  thrash  those  fellows  and 
burn  those  huts  at  once !"  was  the  instant  order. 
"Send  a  company  back  toward  Paco  church. 
Did  they  fire  at  you  from  there?""  turning  sud- 
denly on  the  signal  officer. 

"I  think  so,  sir,"  was  the  modest  answer. 
"At  least  they  fired  several  shots  from  some- 
where close  at  hand." 

"You'll  have  hard  work  keeping  your  wires 
up  to-day,  my  lad,"  said  the  General,  thought- 
fully, "and  I  can't  help  you  very  much,  either. 
But,  all  the  same,  I  rely  upon  you." 

"You  may,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  old 
soldier  and  the  young  shook  hands  and  parted. 

Two  hours  later  came  the  longed-for  order — 
"advance,"  and  with  crashing  volleys  and  ring- 
ing cheers  the  men  of  California,  Washington 


THE   MANILA    WIRE.  2J() 

and  Idalin  plunged  through  the  muddy  stream 
at  their  front  and  charged  home  upon  the  in- 
trenchments  to  the  south  and  west  of  Santa 
Ana.  and  tlien  wlieehng  to  their  left,  drove  the 
Insurgent  force  i)ell  mell  to  the  hanks  of  the 
Tasig,  many  indeed  drowning  in  their  frantic 
efforts  to  swim  to  safety  on  the  farther  shore. 
Meanwhile  the  extreme  right  of  the  hrigade.  in 
hot  pursuit  of  the  Insurgent  reserve  and  rear 
guard,  drove  on  eastward  along  the  highway, 
overwhelming  the  enemy  every  time  he  strove 
to  make  a  stand,  and  at  last,  worn  and  hreath- 
less.  halted  for  the  night.  On  the  back  of  a 
pasteboard  cartridge  case  their  brave  leader, 
Colonel  Smith,  of  the  First  California,  wrote 
to  his  commander  the  brief  soldierly  report  of 
their  success,  and  sent  it  back  to  Santa  Ana  by 
galloping  orderly. 

"Wire  this  news  at  once  to  General  Ander- 
son," w^s  the  order  at  headquarters,  as  the 
brigade  commander  turned  his  horse's  head  up 
the  river  road  and  spurred  away  for  the  ex- 
treme front.  The  wire  was  there  already,  so 
energetic  had  been  the  work  of  the  signal  corps, 
but  when  the  operator  touched  his  key  a  mo- 
ment later  the  line  was  lifeless — dead. 


28o  THE    MANILA   WIRE. 

"Wire's  cut!"  said  he,  briefly,  and  went  leap- 
ing down  the  stone  steps  in  search  of  his  young 
chief,  and  in  another  moment  the  tall  lad  in 
brown  khaki  was  lashing  his  pony  back  along 
the  corpse-strewn  road  to  Paco.  Through  a 
lane  of  blazing  nipa  huts  he  tore  his  way, 
keenly  scanning  the  new  strung  wire.  Over 
the  scarred  Concordia  bridge,  where  the  battle 
raged  so  hotly  in  the  early  morning,  the  nervy 
little  racer  bounded  to  the  Manila  side  and  so 
on  down  the  Calle  Real  between  the  smoulder- 
ing ruins  of  the  native  huts,  from  which  had 
come  that  treacherous  fire  in  the  rear  that 
killed  and  wounded  in  the  early  morning  mem- 
bers of  the  sacred  band  that  served  under  the 
protection  of  the  Red  Cross.  On  past  the  more 
substantial  homes  of  the  better  class  of  the  Fili- 
pinos— all  deserted  now ;  on  past  the  old  head- 
quarters, given  over  by  this  time  to  the 
wounded  and  their  surgeons ;  on  still  another 
block,  with  not  a  break  in  the  line:  on  until 
the  sight  of  warning  hands  uplifted  from  the 
shelter  of  many  a  wall,  the  sound  of  warning 
shouts  from  many  a  brawny  throat  compelled 
the  officer  to  draw'  rein.  Dense  volumes  of 
smoke  and  flame  were  nourine;  from  the  roof 


THE   MANILA    WIRE.  20I 

and  windows  of  the  great  church  and  convent 
in  Paco  Square.  "And  yet,"  said  the  soldiers 
huddhng  in  the  shelter  of  the  nearest  building, 
"there's  a  gang  of  'em  in  the  stone  tower  the 
flames  can't  reach,  and  they  are  tiring  at  every 
man  that  shows  a  head  along  the  street." 

Peering  through  the  murky  veil,  the  young 
officer  could  dimly  see  other  crouching  forms 
of  blue-shirted  soldiers  firing  upward  at  the 
tower  window — wasted  shots  that  only  flat- 
tened harmless  on  the  archway  alx)ve  the  hidden 
heads  of  the  daring  fellows  that  held  the  tower 
and  with  their  rifles  poured  through  narrow 
slits  a  deadly  fire  on  the  roadway.  Over  at 
Battery  Knoll  Captain  Dyer  had  trained  one  of 
his  guns  to  bear  on  that  lofty  little  fortress,  and 
every  now  and  then  a  shell  came  screeching 
over  the  roofs  and  burst  with  crash  and  crackle 
at  the  tower,  and  still  any  attempt  on  part  of 
officer  cr  man  to  run  the  gauntlet  along  that 
road  was  met  with  instant  crack  of  Mauser 
and  zip  of  bullet.  It  was  a  lane  of  death — but 
Duty  beckoned  on. 

"For  God's  sake,  lieutenant,  don't  try  it !" 
yelled  a  .sergeant,  as  with  blazing  eyes  and  set 
lips  the  young  signalman    suddenly  gave   spur 


282  THE   MANILA    WIRE. 

to  his  pony.  The  words  fell  unheeded,  for  in 
another  minute,  despite  a  vigorous  balk  and 
protest,  the  little  beast  was  urged  into  a  trot, 
and.  with  his  eyes  on  those  precious  wires,  the 
brave  lad  rode  sturdily  on.  Another  second 
and  he  was  seen  from  the  tower,  barely  two 
hundred  yards  away,  and  then  down  came  the 
hissing  bullets.  Like  angry  wasps  they  buzzed 
past  his  ears,  and  the  brave  young  heart  beat 
hard  and  fast,  but  Duty — Duty  always  led  him 
on,  and  just  a  block  away,  under  sharp  fire, 
every  inch  of  it,  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  sol- 
dier of  his  corps  crouching  in  the  shelter  of 
the  stone  wall  at  the  roadside  and  pointing 
helplessly  to  where  the  severed  wire  hung, 
limp  and  useless,  from  a  tall  pole  close  to  the 
abutment  of  that  perilous  bridge.  One  way 
and  one  way  only  could  it  be  repaired.  Some 
one  must  climb  that  pole  in  the  very  face  of 
those  lurking  rebels  in  the  tower.  If  the 
smoke 'hung  low  it  might  spoil  their  aim.  If 
it  lifted,  and  it  was  lifting  now,  he  could  not 
hope  to  escape,  and  yet  that  wire  must  be  re- 
stored, and  Duty  bade  him  make  the  thrilling, 
hazardous  effort.  Springing  from  saddle  and 
crouching  at  the  wall,  he  made  his  hurried  prep- 


TlIK    MANILA    WIRE. 


-oj 


arations.  From  the  nervous  hand  of  his  sub- 
ordinate he  took  the  clamps  and  the  few  tools 
necessary,  stowed  them  in  the  jx^cket  of  his 
blouse,  and  then,  with  who  knows  what 
thought  of  home  and  mother,  with  who  knows 
what  murmured  prayer  upon  his  lips,  with  the 
eyes  of  admiring  and  applauding  comrades 
gazing  at  him  from  the  safe  refuge  of  the  walls, 
he  sprang  suddenly  to  the  swaying  pole  and, 
lithe  and  agile,  climbed  swiftly  to  the  top. 
Madly  now  the  Mausers  cracked  from  the 
belfry.  Fiercely  the  Springfields  barked  their 
answer  as  the  cheering  lads  in  blue  sprang  out 
into  the  open  and  poured  rapid  volleys  to  keep 
down  the  rebel  fire.  Clamping  the  pole  with 
his  sinewy  legs  and  using  both  hands,  deftly, 
quickly  he  drew  together  and  firmly  fastened 
the  severed  ends.  Then,  just  as  he  was  about 
to  slide  to  the  ground  and  out  of  harm's  way, 
zip!  tore  a  bullet  through  the  other  w-ire,  and 
down,  dangling,  it  fell  to  the  ground.  Inspired 
by  the  heroism  of  his  young  chief,  the  soldier 
below  leaped  for  the  wire  and,  clambering  part 
way  up.  i^assed  it  to  the  lad  who,  with  clinched 
teeth  and  pallid  lips  clung  to  his  post  at  the 
top.     Another  minute  of  desperate  peril   and 


284  THE  MANILA   WIRE. 

the  work  was  done.  Cheered  to  the  echo  by  the 
few  soldiers — an  oflicer  and  perhaps  a  dozen 
men — who  saw  the  gallant  deed,  the  brave  lad 
slid  unharmed  to  the  shelter  of  the  wall,  and  at 
last  the  wire  hummed  with  life  again  and  bore 
to  division  headquarters  and  to  an  eager  nation 
thousands  of  miles  across  the  sea  the  brief, 
stirring  story  of  sweeping  victory  from  the 
distant  front. 

And  that  was  the  exploit  that  led,  not  long 
after,  to  the  recommendation  that  the  coveted 
medal  of  honor  be  awarded  Lieutenant  Charles 
E.  Kilbourne  of  the  Volunteer  Signal  Corps 
on  duty  at  Manila. 


BETRAYED  BY  A  BUTTON. 


Lieutenant  Harry  Weston  was  but  a  trirte 
over  twenty-one  the  day  lie  was  graduated 
from  West  Point,  and  the  first  thing  he  did 
on  reaching  home  was  to  file  his  application 
for  Companionship  in  the  Military  Order  of 
the  Loyal  Legion  of  the  United  States  by  right 
of  inheritance  from  his  father.  Not  only  that, 
but  he  had  what  his  brother  lieutenants  of  like 
grade  called  the  "gall"  to  ask  a  distinguished 
major  general  of  the  regular  army — once  the 
commander  of  the  crack  division  of  the  cavalry 
corps  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — to  be  his 
sponsor  in  baptism,  and  the  General  promptly 
acceded.  "Your  father  was  one  of  the  best  sol- 
diers I  ever  had  the  honor  to  command,"  said 
he.  "and  I  am  proud  to  see  his  son  coming  to 
take  his  place  in  the  Order." 


j86  betravkd  by  a  button. 

I'^ill  i)f  years  and  honors,  Colonel  Weston 
had  died  twelve  months  before.  There  was 
no  delay  in  proving-  Lieutenant  Harry's  title, 
and  at  the  October  meeting  he  was  duly  in- 
stalled and  l)ecame  proud  possessor  of  the 
beautiful  insignia  to  be  worn  on  his  full  dress 
uniform,  and  of  the  long  coveted  button  to 
adorn  the  left  lapel  of  his  civilian  dress. 

Envious  fellow  subs,  whose  fathers  had  not 
fought  in  the  great  war  for  the  preservation  of 
the  Union,  sought  to  guy  Harry  Weston  on 
this  button  business,  but  he  took  it  all  serenely. 
He  sent  to  the  troop  tailor  such  of  his  coats, 
old  and  new,  as  were  not  provided  with  a  but- 
ton hole  in  the  left  lapel,  to  have  them  duly 
finished  in  order  that  when  in  civilian  dress  he 
might  never  appear  without  the  button  of 
which  he  was  so  justly  proud.  Then  he  laid  in  a 
stock  of  these  buttons,  so  that  his  evening  dress, 
frock,  cutaway  and  tweed  suits  should  each  be 
sure  of  the  adornment,  and  only  smiled  when 
Lieutenant  Bob  Broker  asked  him  if  his  night- 
shirt was  not  to  be  similarly  decorated.  Broker, 
by  the  way,  was  of  the  opinion  that  Congress 
had  made  a  thundering  blunder  in  authorizing 
the  wearing  of  these  medals  and  all  such  frum- 


BETRAYED  BV  A   BLTTUN.  287 

perv.  It  was  utterly  unrepublican.  said  he.  It 
was  an  imitation  of  the  effete  monarchy  sys- 
tem of  tlie  old  world,  by  gosh.  But  then 
Broker's  people  had  contended  themselves  with 
fattening  on  contracts  during  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion,  and  they  do  not  seem  to  have  had 
any  local  habitati(jn  in  the  previous  entangle- 
ments of  the  nation. 

Weston  had  a  neat  little  income  outside  his 
pay.  for  his  soldier  father  had  left  him  fairly 
well  to  do  in  the  world,  and  another  thing  that 
provoked  the  envious  comment  of  just  a  few 
of  his  associates  was  that,  soon  after  joining 
the  troop,  he  set  up  a  \ery  well  appointed  dog 
cart.  Broker  said  it  was  incomplete  without 
the  tiger  behind  and  the  girl  by  his  side.  As 
l>etween  the  lady  and  the  tiger  Weston  did  not 
long  hesitate.  He  had  no  use  for  the  latter, 
but  all  the  girls  in  the  garrison  had  their  airing 
on  the  cart.  It  was  his  intention  to  be  very 
general  in  his  attentions.  He  wished  to  be 
C(»urteous  and  cordial  t(j  all  without  singling 
any  one  of  their  number  as  the  object  of  espe- 
cial devotion,  but  these  are  matters  far  more 
often  regulated  for  a  fellow  than  by  him. 
And  so  it  happened  to  Weston. 


288  BETRAYED  BY  A  BUTTON. 

They  were  stationed  that  first  winter  after 
his  graduation  at  a  dehghtful  old  post  in  the 
southwest,  and  tourists  innumerable  w-ere  ac- 
customed to  stop  there  and  spend  several  days 
at  the  hotel,  whose  broad  verandas  and  plash- 
ing fountains  and  sunshiny  court  were  attrac- 
tions in  themselves,  let  alone  the  fact  that  the 
table  was  excellent,  and,  as  per  advertisement, 
"The  afternoons  and  evenings  are  enlivened  by 
the  music  of  the  splendid  band  of  the  Twelfth 
Cavalry  and  the  presence  of  the  accomplished 
officers  of  that  gallant  regiment."  It  was  only 
an  hour's  easy  trot  from  the  flag  staff  of  the 
garrison  to  that  in  front  of  the  Alcazar.  The 
guests  of  the  hotel  drove  out  to  hear  the  band 
and  see  parade  at  sunset  at  the  post,  and  the 
officers  and  ladies  from  the  post  would  drive 
in  to  hear  the  same  band  and  chat  with  the 
same  people  and  stroll  about  the  verandas,  if 
they  were  elderly,  or  dance  in  the  great  parlors 
if  they  were  not,  until  late  hours  every  even- 
ing. 

Along  in  March  came  the  gayest  party  of  the 
winter.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Minturn,  Jack  Min- 
turn,  Jr.,  and  five  of  the  prettiest  girls  ever 
seen  at  the  hotel  or  the  fort  beyond,  and  the 


BETRAYED  BY  A  BLTTON.  289 

[•rettiest  oi  these  was  Stella  \'an  Alen,  first 
cousin  of  the  two  Minturn  sisters,  and  they 
hadn't  been  there  forty-eight  hours  before  Mr. 
Harry  ^\'eston's  cavalry  uniform  and  Miss 
\'an  Alen's  exquisite  Guthamite  toilets  were  in 
juxtaposition  every  afternoon  and  evening.  It 
was  a  sight  worth  seeing  to  w^atch  those  two 
young  people  at  waltz  or  two-step.  It  was 
prettier  still  to  see  them  ride  off  together,  for 
the  New  York  girls  had  brought  their  habits, 
feeling  well  assured  that  "mounts"  would  not 
be  lacking.  Before  the  end  of  the  week  the 
two  were  inseparable,  and  Miss  Van  Alen's 
girl  friends  w^ere  teasing  the  life  out  of  her. 

'"It  is  nothing  at  all."  she  indignantly  pro- 
tested. "Mr.  Weston  and  I  are  the  best  of 
friends,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it  or  ever  will 
be."  That  she  was  in  love  w^ith  him  or  he 
with  her  was  something  she  indignantly 
scouted. 

.Mas  I  One  evening, — the  evening  before 
they  were  to  go  on  westward  to  the  Pacific, — 
a  merry  party  drove  out  to  the  fort  for  a  hop 
to  be  given  in  their  honor.  Never  mind  the 
details  of  the  hop.  Mr.  Weston  wore  civilian 
evening  dress  instead  of  uniform  that  night. 


290  BETRAYED  BY  A  BUTTON. 

as  he  had  dined  with  the  Minturns  at  the  Al- 
cazar before  the  dance  began.  It  is  of  the 
homeward  flitting  that  we  have  to  tell.  It 
was  a  dark,  moonless  night,  and  as  people  were 
being  bundled  into  the  waiting  carriages  and 
ambulances,  lo,  there  was  Weston's  dog  cart, 
and  Miss  Van  Alen.  demure  and  silent,  was 
quickly  lifted  to  her  seat;  the  lieutenant  sprang 
up  beside  her  and  away  they  went.  Mrs.  Min- 
turn,  chaperon,  might  have  been  supposed  to 
object,  but  she  said  nothing — This  perhaps 
was  army  style. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  the  party  reached 
the  Alcazar,  and  i  :io  before  the  dog  cart  came 
flashing  in  under  the  electric  light.  ''IV here 
have  you  been?  JVhat  has  kept  you?"  were 
the  queries. 

"Miss  Van  Alen's  handkerchief  flew  away 
and  I  was  some  time  finding  it,"  was  Weston's 
answer,  as  he  lifted  his  silent  partner  carefully 
to  the  ground.  "See  you  all  in  the  morning. 
Good-night."  he  said  and  vanished. 

And  then  Miss  \''an  Alen  slipped  by  .the 
party  and  rushed  for  her  room.  Thither  fol- 
lowed her  cousins. 

"Now.  Stella,  confess,"  was  Miss  Minturn's 


BETRAYED  BY   A   BUTTON.  2()l 

ejaculation,  as  with  beaming  eyes  and  glowing 
cheeks  she  caught  her  cnisin  by  the  elbows. 

"Confess  what?  What  on  earth  have  I  to 
confess?" 

"That  ytni  and  Harry  Weston  are  engaged 
— or  will  be — just  as  soon  as  Guardy's  permis- 
sion can  be  obtained." 

"What  nonsense  you're  talking".  Belle  Min- 
turn!  There's  nothing  between  us  beyond — 
beyond  jolly  good  fellowship." 

"There  isn't?  And  yet  you've  had  your  pre- 
cious head  on  his  shoulder  within  the  last  ten 
minutes." 

"Belle  Minturn !  What  an  outrageous  thing 
to  say!     I — 1  have — " 

"Hush-sh — Stop  right  there,  Stella.  Don't 
tell  a  fib  when  the  evidence  is  dead  against  you. 
Come  right  here  to  the  mirror  and  look  and 
tell  me  what  that  means?" 

And  "that"  was  a  circular  indentation  in  the 
soft  and  glowing  cheek,  with  little  folds  within 
its  periphery,  and  all  just  the  exact  imprint  of 
a  Loyal  Legion  button. 

And  then  Stella,  confused,  confounded,  but 
blushingly  and  deliciously  happy,  threw  herself 
into  her  cousin's  arms  and  confessed  out  and 


292  BETRAYED  BY  A  BUTTON. 

out.  Of  course  they  were  engaged,  only  it 
had  only  been  settled  that  night,  and  they 
thought  best  to  say  nothing  until  after  Harry 
had  seen  Mr.  Minturn  in  the  morning. 

However,  girls,  if  you  prefer  not  to  be 
caught  in  this  way,  better  see  to  it  that  your 
Harry  takes  that  button  out  for  the  time  being 
or  else — vou  take  the  other  side. 


GENERAL   CHARLES    KING. 


GEN.  CHARLES  KING. 

By  FORREST  CRISigF.Y, 

First  meetings  with  novelists  are  often  dis- 
appointing. The  failure  of  the  maker  of 
stories  personally  to  fulfill  the  expectations  of 
the  interested  layman,  is  probably  most  fre- 
quently due  to  the  fact  that  the  latter  has,  in 
some  measure,  imputed  to  the  creator  the  qual- 
ities of  the  creation,  unconsciously  looking  to 
find  in  the  novelist  the  charms  with  which  he 
has  invested  some  striking  character  in  the 
pages  of  his  romance. 

No  such  disappointment,  however,  awaits 
any  reader  of  Gen.  King's  stories  who  may  be 
fortunate  enough  personally  to  meet  the  cele- 
brated soldier-novelist.  The  best  traits  of 
character  in  the  bravest  heroes  which  he  has 
pictured  in  his  marvelous  stories  of  frontier 
chivalrv.  are  instantlv  in  be  discerned  in  his 


294  GEN.   CHARLES  KING. 

face  by  the  stranger  who  has  lived  with  the 
heroes  of  his  creating. 

The  miHtary  side  of  Gen.  King's  character 
is  so  dominant  that  it  is  difficult  to  realize, 
while  in  his  presence,  the  fact  that  he  belongs 
to  the  literary  cult.  He  looks  a  soldier,  and 
he  is  a  soldier.  If  anything  can  be  added  to 
this  description  by  way  of  bringing  the  per- 
sonality more  vividly  before  the  eyes  of  the 
reader,  it  may  be  said  that  the  most  stirring 
act  of  heroism  described  in  any  story  he  has 
written  is  more  than  paralleled  by  his  life  as  a 
soldier. 

The  records  have  it  that  Gen.  King  was  born 
fifty-five  years  ago,  but  there  is  not  a  line  in 
his  countenance  or  his  figure  which  would  ap- 
pear remotely  to  confirm  this  statement.  He 
is  erect,  active  and  alert,  and  is  more  frequently 
thought  to  be  under  forty-five  years  of  age  than 
over  fifty.  No  observant  stranger  who  chanced 
to  pass  him  upon  the  street  would  fail  to  rec- 
ognize him  as  a  military  man.  He  is  to-day 
as  fond  of  athletic  sports  as  when  he  was  a 
leader  of  his  associates  in  the  stirring  pastimes 
into  which  he  entered  with  all  the  dash,  energy 
and  devotion   of   a   potential    soldier   when  in 


GEN.   CHARLKS   KING.  295 

training:  -it  West  Point.  Although  he  still 
maintains  an  unfaltering  loyalty  to  the  horse, 
and  is  never  so  happy  as  when  in  the  saddle,  he 
is  an  enthusiastic  wheelman. 

The  old  saying  that  blood  is  thicker  than 
water  is  strikingly  exemplified  in  the  character 
of  Gen.  King.  And  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
understand  his  individuality  or  to  account  ior 
the  remarkable  versatility  of  his  gifts  without 
a  glance  at  the  sturdy  American  stock  from 
which  he  is  descended.  His  great-grandfather 
was  Hon.  Rufus  King,  one  of  the  first  of  the 
distinguished  line  of  statesmen  which  New 
York  has  sent  to  the  United  States  Senate.  The 
name  of  this  ancestor  of  the  soldier-author  is 
signed  tn  the  Constitution,  and  his  services  in 
assisting  to  frame  that  historic  document,  and 
in  shaping  the  destinies  of  New  York  State 
from  the  foundation  of  that  commonwealth, 
were  recognized  by  the  highest  gifts  which  the 
Empire  State  could  bestow.  He  was  twice  se- 
lected as  Minister  of  the  United  States  to  Eng- 
land. Charles  King,  grandfather  of  the  sub- 
ject of  this  sketch,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
presidents  of  rolunibia  ri.lleire.  and  recognized 


296  GEN.  CHARLES  KING. 

as  a  bright  scholar  of  rare  intellectual  gifts  and 
attainments. 

In  the  father  of  Gen.  King  were  found  the 
military  and  the  scholarly  traits  which  obtain 
in  his  son.  for  Rufus  King,  the  second,  was 
both  a  miltary  and  an  intellectual  leader.  His 
rare  (|ualifications  in  the  latter  field  were  rec- 
ognized by  his  appointment  as  Minister  to  the 
Pontifical  States  at  Rome,  a  position  demand- 
ing peculiar  endowments  of  personal  tact, 
poise  and  grace,  together  with  ripe  culture  and 
a  broad  knowledge  of  affairs.  On  the  occa- 
sion of  his  departure  for  this  important  post 
the  Civil  War  broke  out.  Mr.  King  immedi- 
ately resigned  his  appointment  and  retraced 
his  steps  to  Wisconsin,  where  he  assisted  in 
the  organization  of  Wisconsin's  Brigade. 

He  was  among  the  first  of  President  Lin- 
coln's appointments  as  Brigadier-General.  He 
was  also  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Milwau- 
kee Sentinel,  and  wielded  a  strong  influence 
in  the  politics  of  Wisconsin.  The  great  In- 
dian apostle,  John  Eliot,  was  the  head,  in 
America,  of  the  distinguished  family  of  which 
Gen.  Charles  King's  mother  was  a  member. 

With  so  remarkable  an  ancestry,  it  does  not 


GEN.   CHARLES  KING.  297 

appear  strange  that  (Jen.   King  has  reached  a 
high  place  as  soldier,  author  and  scholar. 

His  first  plunge  into  soldier  life  was  made 
when  a  lad  of  sixteen  years.  He  had  been  in 
New  York  City  in  attendance  at  the  prepara- 
tory or  grammar  school  connected  with  Co- 
lumbia College,  and  had  just  passed  his  exam- 
ination admitting  him  to  the  latter  institution, 
when  the  whole  country  was  thrilled  by  the 
echo  of  the  guns  at  Fort  Sumter.  Instantly 
his  dreams  of  college  days  were  forgotten,  and 
before  another  day  had  passed,  after  the  Union 
troops  had  begun  to  assemble  in  Washington, 
his  soldier  blood  was  bounding  in  his  veins 
and  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  Capitol  city. 
There  his  father's  old  friends  from  the  Badger 
State  were  surprised  to  greet  the  face  c^f  the 
boy  in  the  camp  of  the  Wisconsin  volunteers. 

It  was  plain  to  these  veterans  that  the  lad 
had  not  come  from  idle  curiosity,  for  his  drum- 
sticks were  in  his  hand  and  his  fingers  itching 
to  play  the  reveille.  This  accomplishment  im- 
mediately gave  him  place  and  standing  in  the 
regiment,  atul  he  was  kept  bu.sy  for  some  time 
instructing  others  in  the  use  of  the  drumstick. 

He  spee<lily  became  a  favorite  at  hcad([uar- 


298  GEN.   CHARLES  KING. 

ters  and  was  promoted,  in  spite  of  his  extreme 
youth,  to  the  position  of  mounted  orderly,  and 
early  in  his  active  career  as  a  soldier 
sensed  as  guide  for  Gen.  Winfield  Scott 
Hancock  in  Virginia.  In  the  course  of 
his  service  the  lad's  abilities  were  brought 
to  the  personal  attention  of  President 
Lincoln,  who  gave  his  promise  that  the  boy 
should  be  given  a  cadetship  at  West  Point. 
In  pursuance  of  this  pledge  he  was  sent  to  the 
United  States  Military  Academy  at  West 
Point,  in  June,  1862,  was  made  first  Sergeant 
of  Company  B  two  years  later,  and  Adjutant 
of  the  Corps  of  Cadets  in  1865. 

An  old  companion  has  said  of  him,  that  in 
those  days  of  his  training  he  was  distinguished 
by  his  sunny  temper  and  the  fact  that,  contrary 
to  the  prevailing  usages  of  the  school,  he  never 
failed  to  have  a  good  w'ord  for  the  down-trod- 
den "plebe,''  and  that  he  hated  mathematics 
as  ardently  as  he  loved  rollicking  fun  and 
reckless  sport. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  he  must  have 
mastered  his  dislike  for  mathematics,  as  he 
was  graduated  with  the  rank  of  Number  22 
in  a  class  of  more  than  forty  members.     (Only 


GEN.  CHARLES  KING.  299 

one  oi  liis  classmates  has  thus  far  won  any 
notable  distinction.  This  was  the  brave  Will- 
iam Preston  Dixon,  who  lost  his  life  in  an  at- 
tempt to  save  a  helpless  woman  at  the  time  the 
steamer  Evening  Star  went  down.) 

Until  September,  1866,  King  remained  at 
West  Point  in  the  capacity  of  instructor  in 
artillery.  He  left  this  position  to  become  at- 
tached to  Batter\'  K  of  the  light  artillery  sta- 
tioned at  Xew  Orleans. 

His  next  remove  was  to  Fort  Hamilton,  in 
connection  with  Battery  C.  Then  he  was  re- 
called to  West  Point  to  instruct  future  officers 
in  the  mysteries  of  horsemanship  and  cavalry 
and  artillery  tactics. 

In  1 87 1  he  was  appointed  aide-de-camp  to 
General  Emory,  from  which  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  Troop  K  of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  which 
was  then  being  removed  from  Fort  D.  A.  Rus- 
sel  in  Wyoming,  to  Camp  Hualpai,  Arizona. 
How  great  a  part  his  stay  in  Xew  Orleans  on 
staff  duty  v.as  to  play  in  his  life  he  little  knew, 
when  he  accepted  the  transfer  as  an  incident 
in  the  uncertainties  of  military  life.  It  is  now 
alm( -t  !mi.ii-vil)li- 1<>  realize  the  social  ostracism 


300  GEN.  CHARLES  KING. 

to  which  officers  of  the  Federal  Army  were 
then  subjected  in  the  gay  old  city  of  the  South. 

His  engaging  manners,  however,  were  suffi- 
cient to  win  for  him  a  circle  of  select  friends 
with  whom  he  was  well  content.  Among 
these  was  the  daughter  of  a  Southern  gentle- 
man, Capt.  Yorke,  of  Carroll  Parish,  Louisi- 
ana. They  had  not  long  been  acquainted 
when  the  young  officer  learned  that  no  repre- 
sentative of  the  American  army  had  entered 
the  great  international  race  which  was  that 
year  the  star  event  at  the  old  Metairie  track. 
This  opportunity  appealed  to  his  patriotism, 
and  he  instantly  decided  to  become  the  de- 
fender in  the  contest  of  the  United  States 
Army.  His  opponents  were  Count  Victor 
Crenneville,  of  the  Austrian  Hussars,  Mr.  Stu- 
art, of  England,  Captain  Rosenlecher,  of 
France,  and  Mr.  Ross,  late  of  the  Inniskilling 
Dragoons,  who  rode  for  Ireland.  The  prize 
was  a  beautiful  gold-mounted  riding  whip,  but 
the  young  Yankee  lieutenant  determined  to 
make  the  race  for  a  greater  stake  than  any  of 
the  spectators  knew. 

From  thousands  of  parasols  in  the  gay  as- 
semblage fluttered  the  scarlet  and  white  colors 


GEN.   CHARLES  KING.  3OI 

of  Austria,  the  red  and  blue  of  England,  and 
the  green  oi  Ireland,  but  the  skyblue  and  white 
jacket  which  Lieutenant  King  wore  in  honor 
of  Columbia  were  not  to  be  found  in  the  wiiole 
concourse,  save  by  the  most  diligent  search. 
Only  two  of  the  spectators,  the  wife  of  Gen. 
Emory  and  Miss  Yorke,  had  the  pluck  to  fly 
the  colors  of  the  American  contestant. 

But  races  are  not  won  with  ribbons,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  homestretch  Lieut.  King's  horse 
was  the  winner  by  two  lengths.  And  he  did 
not  fail  of  his  larger  stake,  for  he  placed  the 
whip  in  the  lap  of  the  girl  from  Carroll  Parish, 
who  became  his  wife  before  the  succeeding 
winter — a  season  which  brought  turbulent 
scenes  to  the  quaint  old  Southern  city  which 
was  rent  with  riots  that  gave  the  young  offi- 
cer severe  and  difficult  training. 

His  next  move  was  an  important  one,  and 
afforded  him  his  introduction  to  the  perils  and 
hardships  of  frontier  Indian  warfare.  He 
was  assigned  to  the  Fifth  Cavalry  in  command 
of  Troop  K,  which  did  heroic  service  against 
the  Apaches,  a  tribe  which  sustained  its  repu- 
tation for  cruelty,  cunning  and  courage.  In 
these    desperate    encounters    he    displayed  the 


302  GEN.   CHARLES  KING. 

coolness  and  indifference  to  danger  which  have 
uniformly  characterized  his  entire  military 
career. 

In  the  fight  at  Diamond  Butte,  May  25, 
1874,  his  bra\  ery  was  so  conspicuous  that  his 
recommendation  for  promotion  to  the  rank  of 
captain  was  made  by  the  commanding  general. 
It  was  a  marvel  to  his  comrades  that  he  came 
out  of  one  fight  after  another  without  a  scratch, 
for  no  private  in  the  ranks  exposed  himself 
more  persistently  to  the  enemy  that  did  the 
leader  of  Troop  K. 

There  were  many  doleful  prophecies  that 
this  exemption  from  Apache  bullets  could  not 
continue  indefinitely,  and  the  historic  fight  of 
Sunset  Pass,  Nv>vember  i,  1874,  fulfilled  these 
imhappy  predictions.  In  the  midst  of  the  en- 
counter Lieutenant  King  found  himself  and 
Sergeant  Bernard  Taylor  cut  off  from  his 
troopers  and  the  centre  of  a  wicked  fire  from 
the  Apaches.  It  is  not  improbable  that  this 
country  would  have  missed  one  of  its  most  en- 
tertaining and  typically  American  novelists, 
had  not  a  naked  savage,  hiding  behind  a  rock, 
sent  a  well-aimed  bullet  into  the  body  of  Lieu- 
tenant  King.     LI  is   right   arm   was   shattered 


GEN.   CHARLES   KING.  3O3 

and  he  gave  peremptory  urder  to  Sergeant 
Taylor  to  lea\e  liim  to  his  fate  and  save  him- 
self. This  command  the  plucky  Sergeant  de- 
liberately refused  to  obey,  and  standing  over 
the  body  of  his  fallen  lieutenant,  Taylor  fought 
back  the  Apaches  until  a  detachment  of  ^roop- 
ers  came  to  the  rescue. 

The  wound  healed  sufficiently  to  permit  him 
to  engage  in  the  celebrated  Big  Horn  and  Yel- 
lowstone expedition,  in  which  he  added  ma- 
terially to  his  laurels,  and  was  rewarded  by 
Gen.  Wesley  Merritt  by  appointment  as  ad- 
jutant of  the  regiment. 

A  year  later,  in  the  fall  of  1877,  he  was 
again  in  the  thick  of  the  Xez  Perces  campaign, 
and  was  earlier  called  to  the  scene  of  the  rail- 
road riots  in  Council  Bluffs  and  Chicago. 

His  next  experiences  were  in  connection 
with  the  Bannock  uprising.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  more  severe  mountain  scouting  in 
1878.  Next  year  he  had  attained  the  rank  of 
Captain,  and  was  in  command  of  A  Troop. 
The  old  wound  received  at  Sunset  Pass  had, 
in  time,  given  him  constant  and  increasing 
trouble,  and  at  length  became  so  serious  that 
it     compelled     him     to     appear     before     the 


304  GEN.  CHARLES  KING. 

retiring  Iward  for  permission  to  relin- 
quish his  active  mihtary  career.  This  peti- 
tion was  regretfully  complied  with,  and  he  re- 
tired from  the  service  and  returned  to  his 
home  in  Wisconsin. 

His  knowledge  of  military  affairs  brought 
him  an  appointment  as  instructor  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Wisconsin  at  Madison.  He  was 
also  selected  by  Governor  Jeremiah  Rusk  to 
act  as  Colonel  and  Aide-de-Camp  in  the  state 
military  organization. 

In  1895  he  was  appointed  Adjutant-General 
of  Wisconsin,  and  in  that  capacity  did  much  to 
raise  the  militia  of  that  state  to  its  present  high 
standard.  The  outbreak  of  the  war  with 
Spain  in  1898  found  him  in  better  health  than 
he  had  enjoyed  for  many  years,  and  stirred  his 
soldier  blood  as  deeply  as  did  the  first  call  for 
volunteers  in  '61.  May  28th  brought  him  his 
appointment  as  Brigadier-General  of  Volun- 
teers. He  was  ordered,  June  2nd,  to  report  to 
Gen.  Merritt,  in  San  Francisco,  and  left  for 
that  city  two  days  later,  taking  later  de- 
parture for  the  Philippines,  where  he  com- 
manded the  men  of  the  First  Washington, 
First  California  and  First  Idaho  regiments. 


GEN.   CHARLES  KING.  305 

Gen.  King  confesses  that  he  was  never  so 
happy  in  his  hfe  as  when  leading  these  men 
against  the  FiHpinos.  His  only  regret  is  that 
the  return  of  ill  health  compelled  his  voluntary 
retirement  in  August,  1899.  When  chatting 
with  callers,  in  his  room  on  the  third  story  of 
one  of  the  oldest  office  buildings  in  Milwaukee, 
Gen.  King  resolutely  refuses  to  be  entrapped 
into  a  literary  conversation,  and  invariably  re- 
turns with  soldierly  enthusiasm  to  the  topic  of 
the  war  in  the  Philippines,  and  grows  eloquent 
in  the  praise  of  the  conduct  of  his  "boys"  from 
the  Xorthwest.  Many  of  the  latter,  however. 
have  brought  back  stories  of  their  commander 
more  enthusiastic,  if  possible,  than  those 
which  he  relates  of  them.  They  tell  of  how  he 
thrice  passed  at  the  head  of  a  portion  of  his 
command  over  a  certain  bridge  which  marked 
the  division  between  the  American  and  the 
Filipino  forces.  How  great  is  the  marvel  that 
he  came  out  of  the  engagement  untouched,  is 
best  indicated  by  a  photograph  which  the 
writer  found  lying  on  his  desk,  and  which  is 
published  in  connection  with  this  article.  .-K 
glance  at  this  picture  will  slunv  that  the  side 
of  the    structure    is    literally    pitted  by  bullet 


306  GEN.   CHARLES  KING. 

marks.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  hailstorm 
of  lead  from  the  insurgent  ambush  that  Gen. 
King  passed  over  the  bridge;  three  times  he 
deliberately  subjected  himself  to  this  fire,  while 
his  men  were  well-nigh  speechless  with  amaze- 
ment. A  private  who  witnessed  this  superb 
display  of  courage  remarked  to  an  American 
newspaper  correspondent :  "That  man  will 
never  see  the  United  States  again." 

On  a  shelf  in  Gen.  King's  workroom  is  the 
worn  and  battered  field-desk  which  he  has  car- 
ried through  his  campaigns.  In  its  pigeon- 
holes is  to  be  found  the  secret  of  his  marvelous 
accuracy  in  writing.  A  half  dozen  small 
blank  books  of  the  ordinary  commercial  kind 
are  filled  with  entries,  written  in  a  minute,  but 
legible  hand.  These  record  the  occurrences  of 
each  day  of  his  active,  honest  service,  and  pre- 
sent concisely  but  vividly  the  impressions  made 
upon  his  mind  at  the  moment  by  the  stirring 
scenes  through  which  he  has  passed. 

His  first  work  when  beginning  a  new  novel 
is  to .  consult  these  priceless  records.  It  is 
doubtful  if  there  is  another  author  who  com- 
poses more  rapidly  than  Gen.  King  when  once 
he  is  inspired  by  a  sympathetic  theme. 


GEN.  CHARLES  KING.  307 

While  he  emphatically  disavows  all  literary 
traditions,  and  declares  that  his  labors  in  this 
field  are  inspired  solely  by  the  motive  of  ''mak- 
ing one  woman  happy"  and  giving  his  son  and 
daughters  an  education  which  would  be  impos- 
sible by  any  other  means  within  his  command, 
the  strong  human  interests,  the  swift  move- 
ment, and  the  delicate  sympathy  and  tender 
pathos  of  his  stories  are  sufficient  proof  of  the 
fact  that  his  work  is  done  with  a  genuine  heart 
interest,  and  not  as  a  perfunctory  task. 

His  methods  of  work  are  undoubtedly  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  all  other  authors.  After 
a  perusal  of  his  note-books  he  writes  his  pages 
in  a  short  hand  of  his  own  and  reads  his  stories 
into  a  phonograph  which  is  passed  to  an  opera- 
tor of  the  typewriter,  who  transcribes  the  rec- 
ord of  the  cylinder.  The  sheets  are  then  re- 
turned to  Gen.  King  for  revision,  but  the  dic- 
tated manuscript  is  seldom  changed  to  any 
great  extent. 

"Between  the  Lines"  and  the  "General's 
Double"  are  Gen.  King's  favorites  of  the 
scores  of  stories  which  he  has  given  to  the  pub- 
lic. His  first  story  was  "Kitty's  Conquest," 
and  was  written  in  the  '70s.     Its  production 


308  GEN.  CHARLES  KING. 

was  then  regarded  by  its  author  as  a  passing 
whim,  a  pastime  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  an 
officer's  Hfe  of  a  frontier  post.  This  was  pub- 
lished in  the  United  Sennce  Magazine  of  Phil- 
adelphia, and  immediately  attracted  favorable 
attention.  The  manuscript  was  carried  in  the 
officer's  luggage  through  the  Nez  Perces  and 
the  Sioux  campaigns,  and  shared  the  fate  of 
many  another  first  literary  effort  in  being  re- 
spectfully declined  by  one  or  two  editors. 

This  initial  story  was  followed  in  1881  by 
the  stirring  romance  first  called  "Winning  His 
Spurs,"  but  later  issued  in  book-form  as  "The 
Colonel's  Daughter."  Then  Mr.  Alden,  the 
venerable  editor  of  Harpers'  Magazine. 
reached  out  for  the  work  of  the  young  military 
novelist  and  secured  the  charming  stories,  "A 
War-Time  Wooing"  and  "Between  the  Lines." 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  originals  of 
nearly  all  Gen.  King's  heroes  w'ere  men  of  the 
famous  old  Fifth  Cavalry,  but  this  may  be 
denied  on  the  authority  of  the  author.  Only 
two  or  three  of  his  characters  were  suggested 
by  the  members  of  that  command. 

W^hen  called  to  the  war  in  the  Philippines, 
Gen.  King  was  about  to  join  his  wife,  son  and 


GEN.  CHARLES  KIXG.  309 

daughters  in  Europe.  The  son  Rufus  is  now 
seventeen  years  ui  age.  a  bright,  manly  lad, 
and  the  centre  of  his  father's  ambitions.  The 
daughter  Elinor  i.s  the  third  of  his  children, 
and  a  girl  of  rare  beauty  and  attractiveness. 

A  fitting  conclusion  to  this  glimpse  of  the 
soldier-novelist  and  his  career  is  a  reference  to 
a  communication  sent  by  Major-General 
Thomas  M.  Anderson  to  the  Adjutant-General 
of  the  armies  of  the  United  States.  This  is 
dated  March  i,  1899,  and  recommends  the  pro- 
motion of  Brigadier-General  Charles  King  to 
the  rank  of  Major-General  of  Volunteers  as  a 
reward  for  ''energy,  bravery  and  efficiency"  in 
battle  during  the  engagement  with  the  Filipino 
insurgents,  February  5.  1899. 

THE    END. 


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